
T& LINGER-NOTS 

and the 

VALLEY FEUD 


5 AGNES MILLER. 





















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“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY INTERFERING WITH THAT 
PIECE OF IRON?” 


“The Linger-Nots and the Valley Feud” 


Page 158 







V 

THE LINGER-NOTS 

and the 

VALLEY FEUD 

OR 

The Great IVest Point Chain 


By AGNES MILLER 

Author of 

“The Linger-Nots and the Mystery House/’ 
“The Linger-Nots and Their Golden Quest,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY 










THE LINGER-NOTS SERIES 

By AGNES MILLER 
Cloth. 12mo. Frontispiece. 

THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE MYSTERY HOUSE 
Or, The Story of Nine Adventurous Girls 

THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE VALLEY FEUD 
Or, The Great West Point Chain 

THE LINGER-NOTS AND THEIR GOLDEN QUEST 
Or, The Log of the Ocean Monarch 


Other volumes in 'preparation 


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, NEW YORK 


Copyright, 1923, by 
Cupples & Leon Company 


The Linger-Nots and the Valley Feud 


Printed in U. 8. A. 



©C1A752529 











CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PACE 

I. Priscilla's Plans i 

II. Torne Top. 15 

HI* Grahams on the Hill, Perrhyns 

by THE River.30 

IV. Where the Chain Was Forged . 44 

V. A Breathing-Spell .... 58 

VI. A Party for Cecily .... 73 

VII. West Point: The Key . . .86 

VIII. Through the Pass .... 97 

IX. The Haunted House . . .110 

X. A Council of War .... 127 

XI. Knights to the Rescue . . . 144 





CONTENTS 


XII. Ladies to the Rescue . . . 157 

XIII. Hold, Link! Break, Spell! . .173 

XIY. The Maddest, Merriest Day . . 189 




INTRODUCTION 


The Linger-Nots thought they had done well 
enough, when, in the first volume of this series 
entitled “The Linger-Nots and the Mystery 
House,” they cleared up the mystery, but a 
club of nine lively girls, who enjoy reducing the 
troubles around them, are not likely to do much 
in that line without getting into exciting ex¬ 
periences. The following story tells what hap¬ 
pened when the club had its summer outing in 
the Ramapo mountains. When the quarrels of 
great-grandfathers are passed on to the inno¬ 
cent ones, who had no part in the original feud, 
there is room for misery and tragedy. The 
Linger-Nots happened to come into just such 
a feud, and the way they took the misery and 
tragedy out of it makes interesting and in¬ 
structive reading. 

Such adventures developed their ideas of life 


INTRODUCTION 


into ideals of service, and their further expe¬ 
riences will be told in the next volume, entitled 
“The Linger-Nots and Their Golden Quest, or 
The Log of the Ocean Monarch.” 

The Publishers. 




THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE 
VALLEY FEUD 


CHAPTER I 
Priscilla's plans 

“ Y“"JRISCILLA, have you watered the win- 
dow-boxes?” 

“All except these on the verandah, 

mother.'' 

As she spoke, Priscilla, armed with a large 
watering-can, stepped from the hall out on the 
wide verandah of The Log Cabin, where her 
mother sat at work in the September sunshine. 
In her crisp blue-and-white bungalow apron, 
with her fair hair bound around her head with 
a pale blue ribbon, she made a charming picture 
as she began industriously to water the long 
row of narrow green boxes that topped the 
verandah railing. 

The Log Cabin was the Clevelands' summer 
cottage in the Ramapo mountains, thirty miles 
from New York. For three months, Priscilla 
had not seen Willett Parkway with its quaint 


2 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


red brick and blue slate houses, where she and 
her eight Linger-Not Club friends lived. She 
had begun to grow so fast that summer before 
her fifteenth birthday, that her father and 
mother had thought a long, quiet vacation the 
best thing for their tall, slim daughter. So 
Priscilla had come in June to the comfortable 
little cottage in Highland Pass, a fertile valley 
shut out from the stirring world so near it by 
two great barriers of rock which gave it its 
name. 

Through the Pass the foaming waters of the 
gray Ramapo river dashed southward, water¬ 
ing the dense woods crowded along its shores, 
and set in a clearing in the woods half a mile 
out of the foundry village of Brockway, the 
two-story bungalow of rough logs, with every 
window-sill and porch-railing a cascade of 
green vines and plants, had been the happiest 
of summer homes for Priscilla and her two 
brothers, Eliot and Alec. The boys had been 
away for a few days, camping with some of 
their friends nearby at Lake Nanaukee, but 
Priscilla and her mother were not alone, for 
Mr. Cleveland commuted to and from the city 
daily. 

“How well those little pine-trees have done 
in the boxes!” remarked Mrs. Cleveland, as 
Priscilla splashed her last drop of water on a 
mass of creepers. “It was the boys , idea, I 
think, to plant them there instead of ferns.’’ 




PRISCILLA’S PLANS 


3 


“Yes, wasn’t it clever to think of them? 
Cecily Graham told me only yesterday that 
every gnest the Grahams have had on the Hill 
this summer has asked her: 1 Whose is that little 
log-cabin-sort-of place with the pine-tree win¬ 
dow boxes, down in the clearing?’ By the way, 
mother, have the boys decided to stay in camp 
all September?” 

“Yes, dear, your father had a letter from 
Eliot this morning.” Mrs. Cleveland glanced 
at Priscilla with regretful hesitation. “I’m 
sorry you’re having such a quiet time, and espe¬ 
cially sorry they’ll both be away still on your 
birthday. When they went over to join the 
Sutherland boys and the rest of the crowd, they 
never intended to stay so long. But, you see, it 
will be Eliot’s last long vacation, since he’s 
going into the bank in October, and of course 
Alec wants to stay if Eliot does.” 

“Oh, mother, I don’t mind,” interposed Pris¬ 
cilla. “That is-” 

“Of course you understand, dear. Just the 
same, I wish I could give you anything you 
would like most for your birthday, to make up 
a little to you for its quietness.” 

“You can, mother. Thank you so much!” 
replied Priscilla sedately. She laughed mer¬ 
rily at her mother’s astonishment over the 
prompt reply. 

“Why, can you have thought of something 
already?” 




4 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Yes, and I’ll tell you what it is, right away. 
But first, mother, if we are going to have that 
terrible cold-slaw father loves so, for supper, 
I’ll get the cabbage and chop it up out here 
while you go on sewing, and we can talk. ’’ 

“Very well, I’ll be glad to have company .’ 9 

Priscilla vanished with the watering-can, and 
her mother began to wonder what the birthday- 
present would turn out to be. 

Back came the daughter wfith a chopping- 
bowl, a knife, a chopper, and the despised cab¬ 
bage. She settled herself comfortably on a 
small chair, and began to slice the cabbage ex¬ 
pertly. 

“It never hurts to ventilate cabbage!” she 
declared. “Now, mother, do you want me to 
tell you what I’d like more than anything else 
in the world for my birthday?” 

“Do, Priscilla.” 

“I want to have all the Linger-Nots here to 
visit for two weeks.” 

“My dear child! Nine girls in this tiny 
house? Where could you possibly put them? 
And you ’ll see all the girls every day next win¬ 
ter, you know.” 

“But that’s ’way off! And I haven’t seen 
them for three whole months! And I’m presi¬ 
dent of the club and ought to do something for 
it,” pointed out Priscilla. “Oh, mother, please 
let me have them! It would be such fun! I’ve 




PRISCILLA’S PLANS 


5 


been making plans all summer long about bow 
to entertain them, if you’d only let me!” 

“All summer! And you never told me! 
Well, my dear, you’ve taken advantage of me, 
for I can’t very well go back on my word! Your 
plans are often good. Tell me what they are.” 

“Well, I thought,” began Priscilla with en¬ 
thusiasm, “that we could put a cot in my room 
—it’s so big—and Joyce and Jinny and Muriel 
can have that. They’re kids, and they won’t 
mind being crowded if they can all be together. 
Anyway, they’d better be in the house, because 
Jinny always gets into such scrapes—though I 
know that’s rather hard on you, mother. Then, 
if the boys are going to stay over in the camp, 
Rose and Evelyn can have their room. They’ll 
both be ever so nice for you to have in the 
house, and lots of help to you.” 

“Just a moment, Priscilla. You know if you 
disturb as much as one single twist in a tail 
of any of those stuffed snakes in the boys ’ room, 
not to mention the hornets’ nests and feather- 
collections, there will be sore hearts, very 
hard to console. And what do you mean by 
saying ‘in the house’? Do you expect your 
company to camp out in the woods ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, mother.” Priscilla was certainly full 
of surprises this morning! “My plan is to put 
the boys ’ old tent up in that clearing just behind 
the house, and Aline and Helena and Dorothy 
and I can have that. As for the stuffed snakes, 




6 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


etcetera, I have found out just exactly where 
they all belong, and if I have to move them, I 
can put them back so the boys will absolutely 
never know any female touched them.” 

“I believe you can,” said her mother, with 
secret admiration. “Well, I’ll take care of the 
commissary department, if the girls will take 
turns in lending a hand too . 9 9 

“Oh, they’d expect to do that! And now, 
mother, for the most important thing: what 
we’ll do all the time they’re here.” 

“Yes, what have you thought of, for a lively 
dramatic club on a vacation? It is very quiet, 
you know, in this shut-in valley, and it’s late 
in the season, too.” 

“Oh, I’m not afraid they’ll be bored!” de¬ 
clared Priscilla stoutly. “To begin with, we 
can climb Bald Torne. Everybody likes that 
trip, because it gives such wonderful views of 
the country. Then some day I’d love to give 
a party for Cecily Graham, because you know 
how nice she has been to me all summer. I’m 
afraid you’re going to say she’s lots older than 
I am, or even than I shall be on the twenty- 
first, but she’s ever so much interested in the 
club, mother, and has asked me all about every 
one of the girls ever so often.” 

“Why, I think Cecily would appreciate your 
attention, and like meeting your friends,” said 
Mrs. Cleveland warmly. 

“Yes. She has so many nice things, and so 




PRISCILLA’S PLANS 


7 


much gayety, and yet what she enjoys most of 
all is just knowing other people! Mother, I 
don’t understand how such a friendly girl can 
belong to such an unforgiving family, and can 
keep up a silly old quarrel as if it were a re¬ 
ligion !’ 9 

“ Priscilla dear, a feud between families 
can’t be understood by anyone not in it. Also, 
it’s almost impossible to heal. Outsiders can¬ 
not interfere, and time seems to make it grow 
worse, very often.” 

“What a terrible pity!” sighed Priscilla. 
“Well, mother, to return to the entertainment 
question, we can go on fishing-trips, and drive 
over to West Point and see the Hudson High¬ 
lands, and go on hikes. And in the evenings 
we can make candy and roast nuts and play 
charades and dance and sing, and decide what 
the club ought to do next winter. Oh, I’ve 
thought of a lot of other things to do, too. We 
might-” 

“Priscilla, spare me! I have perfect con¬ 
fidence in you.” Mrs. Cleveland made a merry 
gesture of submission. “You may have all the 
girls here, on one condition.” 

“What is it, please!” 

“That you’ll stop thinking of things to do! 
Now, run and write your invitations. I’m sure 
the Linger-Nots will never linger, here!” 

“When shall I ask the girls to come! A week 
from to-day! That’s Wednesday.” 




8 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


Mrs. Cleveland was prevented from replying 
by a clear, musical whistle that floated across 
the verandah vines as if from a distance. 

“That’s Cecily’s whistle. Oh, Cecily!” 
called Priscilla turning towards the gate. 
“We’re home. Come in!” 

The gate clicked, and against the privet 
hedge that shut out The Log Cabin from the 
highway winding along the swift-rushing river, 
appeared a slight girl of about nineteen, her 
bronzed skin and wavy brown hair set off by a 
rust-colored cloth tam-o’-shanter and a long 
knitted cape of the same color. As she ad¬ 
vanced up the walk she smiled, losing the rather 
austere expression that characterized her face 
in repose, and showing beautiful, even, white 
teeth. Her only other good feature was a fine 
pair of dark brown eyes, for Cecily Graham 
was an interesting-looking rather than a pretty 
girl. Yet from those eyes shone so much hon¬ 
esty, so much intelligence and thought, that her 
appearance was not only arresting, but very 
pleasing. 

“Good morning! I called to you, Priscilla, 
but there was so much laughing and another 
noise—a queer one—oh, chopping!—that I had 
to whistle to make you hear. Please excuse my 
bad manners, Mrs. Cleveland. I was brought 
up better!” 

“I believe anyone who can whistle as mu¬ 
sically as you can ought to do so, Cecily! It’s 




PRISCILLA’S PLANS 


9 


a rare accomplishment,’ ’ declared Mrs. Cleve¬ 
land indulgently. “But I agree with you that 
there’s been more than enough chopping. Pris¬ 
cilla, I doubt if your father wishes powdered 
cabbage for supper, and I’m quite sure I don’t 
know how to cook it! ” 

She rescued and bore off the chopping-bowl, 
leaving the two girls alone. 

“Where have you been this morning, Ce¬ 
cily?” inquired Priscilla. 

“Away up the river-road. All the trees have 
turned now. The foliage is simply brilliant.” 

“When I see the woods like that, I wish I 
lived here all the year round, like you.” 

“You’d miss the city.” Cecily shook her 
head in amusement. “I feel the same way when 
I go down to New York in the winter and have 
a glorious time. But I’m always glad to get 
back to our old gray house up on the Hill here. ’ ’ 

“Because your family has always lived 
there,” suggested Priscilla. 

“That’s it exactly,” agreed Cecily, and 
sighed strangely. 

“It’s certainly wonderful for a girl to know 
the country around here the way you do, ’ ’ said 
Priscilla, trying to cheer her. For a girl whose 
father was the most prominent man in the 
countryside, and who had come out in New 
York the past winter and had enjoyed an un¬ 
ceasing round of gaieties ever since, Cecily did 
seem to become depressed very easily. “You 




10 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


love it so much you never get lonely on those 
long walks. Most people certainly would.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t see a soul to— 
to speak to, all morning,” replied Cecily rather 
nervously. “The walk seemed awfully long 
to-day, somehow.” 

Her glance wavered, and fell to her lap, 
where her right hand lay clasping a bunch of 
letters. The sunlight was playing brightly on 
the amethyst set in a curious ring on the little 
finger, which Cecily’s father had once had made 
for his only daughter. This stone was set in a 
tiny Scotch thistle, and the thistle was framed 
in a small gold circle engraved with the motto: 
“Our Word.” Cecily had once told Priscilla 
that this curious emblem had been adapted 
from the old Graham crest, and that the circle 
typified the word of a Graham, never to be 
broken. 

“I stopped at the village to get the mail,” she 
continued rather hastily, exhibiting the letters, 
“and I thought I’d stop here on my way 
home, Priscilla, to tell you that father’s going 
to take some people through his ironworks at 
Snowdon next Saturday. Wouldn’t you like to 
come with us? We’ve often spoken of going.” 

“I’d love to. But you see, I’m afraid I’ll 
be pretty busy. All the Linger-Nots are coming 
up to visit me!” explained Priscilla proudly. 

“What, all of them?” 

“Yes.” 




PRISCILLA’S PLANS 


11 


4 ‘How nice! Bring them along with you.” 

“What! All of them!” asked Priscilla in 
turn. 

“If there’s room for them here, there cer¬ 
tainly will be in the works! Do tell me where 
in the world you’re going to put them all and 
how you’re going to entertain them.” 

It was the greatest satisfaction to Priscilla 
to repeat all her plans to Cecily, who was the 
most appreciative girl in the world and an ex¬ 
perienced belle withal. She applauded every 
detail. 

“You must bring all the Linger-Nots up the 
Hill to see me, too,” she declared. “Let’s set 
a date. How about the twenty-sixth! That 
will be fine! What a wonderful hostess you 
are, Priscilla!” 

“Say that,” advised Priscilla wisely, “when 
the visit’s over!” 

She spent a busy week executing her plans. 
Eight is a rather formidable number of guests 
for a hostess who has neither chef nor butler. 
But whenever Priscilla wearied of her work, the 
click of the rural free delivery box would be 
heard just outside the privet hedge, and, racing 
down to the gate, she would find some one of 
the following letters to spur her on: 

Priscilla, old dear: 

How simply gorgeous of you to invite us all up 
to the dear old Log Cabin! To think of being out- 




12 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


doors two weeks longer this glorious time of year! If 
I were excitable, I should be as much overcome by 
joy as all the other girls are, but anyway, I'm just 
as happy. 

As ever, 

Dorothy Stone. 

P. S. I forgot to thank you for my invitation, but 
I am truly very grateful. D. S. 

P. S. No. 2. I accept it with great pleasure! 

D. 

******* 

Dear Priscilla: 

Joyce and I thank you so much for your kind in¬ 
vitation, and are delighted to say that we can come. 
I just can’t wait till Wednesday to see you! We 
missed you dreadfully at camp. 

You say it’s no trouble to a person like me to write 
letters! What can that mean? If it’s a compliment, 
I’ll send you some news. 

Dorothy won the silver cup for swimming at camp. 
She has finally learned not to splash! Rose won the 
ten-dollar gold piece for the best wild-flower classi¬ 
fication. Virginia was nearly drowned, and nearly 
run over, and nearly poisoned eating some lovely 
pink berries, but of course she bobbed up smiling. 
Oh, Priscilla! Aline almost killed us all. She got 
hold of a book about a woman who was a missionary 
for nineteen years in Thibet, all alone, and every day 
she announced something noble that she wanted to 
do. It was always different every day. She wanted 
to go into a convent, and teach a free kindergarten, 
and nurse lepers. Muriel is just as quiet as ever, and 




PRISCILLA’S PLANS 


13 


as clever, too. Helena has learned to play the guitar 
very well, and we had music in the air every evening. 
I wrote a camp song, and she made us all practice it. 

Joyce wants to add something herself, for I’ll stop, 
and go on when I see you. 

Love from 

Evelyn Barry. 


(In a different handwriting) 

The minute your letter came, I packed our big 
bag, and we’re all ready as soon as Wednesday is. 

Lots of love from 

Joyce Barry. 

******* 

(On a perfumed and monogramed 
correspondence card) 

My Dear Priscilla: 

It will be most delightful to spend a fortnight with 
you at your country place. What an original idea 
for us to live in a tent! It will be great sport. 

Please give my regards to your mother. I look 
forward to seeing you all. 

Till Wednesday, then, as always, 

Helena Hawthorne. 

******* 
My Dear Priscilla: 

I thank you very much indeed for your kind in¬ 
vitation. I am very happy to accept it. 

Affectionately, 

Muriel Ives. 




14 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


Dear Priscilla: 

Virginia and I will be delighted to visit you. We 
are sure to have a splendid time. Virginia is so 
pleased over being invited! It’s her first house-party 
invitation. She says she’s going to be awfully good. 
I do hope so—that’s the most important thing in the 
world. 

I hope Wednesday will be here soon. 

Always affectionately yours, 

Aline Gaines. 

(Squeezed on a postal card) 

Dear Priscilla: 

Aline is writing for both of us, but I want to tell 
you privately how much I love you for asking me to 
visit you. I had a lovely time at camp, but I’m sure 
it’s nothing to what I ’ll have at The Log Cabin. 

****** Virginia Gaines. ****** 
(Kisses) (Kisses) 

P. S. Wait till you see Helena. She’s getting fat¬ 
ter, and fatter, and fatter. She hates it. 

*#*#*#• 

Dear Priscilla: 

I’m so pleased to receive your invitation! I accept 
with the greatest pleasure, for the last few weeks have 
been very busy ones in the Jaffrey House Museum. 
We received some beautiful new exhibits for the Old 
Landmark Society, and they took a good deal of time 
and work to arrange. I’m ready for some fun! Be- 




PRISCILLA’S PLANS 


15 


ing with you and the other girls in that wonderful 
historic Ramapo country I’ve read so much about is 
just my ideal of a good time. 

Congratulations on your birthday, in advance. But 
you can’t catch up to me! I was sixteen last month! 
Affectionately your friend, 

Rose Willing. 

• •••••• 

So the week sped round, and finally Wednes¬ 
day came! 




CHAPTER II 


TORNE TOP 


INE gay sweaters dotted the river-road. 



Priscilla’s was green, Dorothy’s scar- 


^ 1 let, a charming contrast to her black 
hair, Evelyn’s the bright blue of her eyes. Rose 
wore pink, Helena a new shade which she called 
“autumn-leaf” and Virginia described as 
“mud color,” and Aline’s dark face was well 
set off by orange, while the three young insep¬ 
arables, Joyce, Virginia, and Muriel, had made 
themselves gorgeous in purple. 

The clear September air rang with their 
merry voices, as they traveled north through 
the fallen red and yellow leaves in the sunny 
autumn haze, bound for an afternoon climb up 
Bald Torne. 

“What have you been doing here all summer, 
Priscilla?” asked Evelyn. “Is there much go¬ 
ing on in Brockway?” 

“Oh, no, practically nothing,” replied Pris¬ 
cilla. “It’s really just a village of the people 


16 


TORNE TOP 


17 


who work in the foundry. Besides them there 
are only one or two families that own estates 
around here and live here all year. Cecily Gra¬ 
ham, my friend that I told you about, belongs 
to one of those families, for her father owns 
the foundry and ironworks at Snowdon, a few 
miles back in the mountains. She lives on the 
Hill above us, right up this road.’ 9 

The girls were at that moment crossing a 
winding road that turned off at right angles to 
the river-road, about a quarter of a mile north 
of The Log Cabin, to lose itself immediately in 
the brilliant woods. 

“We can look down on her house when we 
get to Torne Top,” continued Priscilla. “The 
Tome’s just a little further along this road, 
and while it’s by no means one of the highest 
mountains here, it’s peculiarly set off from the 
others so that you can get wonderful views of 
the country on all sides. It’s not a hard climb. 
Cecily took me up there herself the first time I 
went.’ 9 

“Do you go to see her often!” asked Dorothy. 

“She has invited me up to the house several 
times. Of course, girls, while I say she’s my 
friend, I don’t know her the way I know you. 
She’s just very friendly to everybody—that is, 
nearly everybody,” corrected Priscilla. 

“But the other prominent families—haven’t 
they any young people!” inquired Helena. 

“There’s really only one other important 




18 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


family here, the Perrhyns. We’ll come to their 
big white house in a minute. There are only 
the father and two sons in that family, and one 
of the sons is just grown up. I don’t know 
them very well, though father has met Mr. Per- 
rhyn and liked him. He owns a big dairy 
farm.” 

“How wild and mysterious it is here, in this 
valley, all shut in by rocks!’ 9 shivered Evelyn, 
drawing close to Rose as the sun went under a 
sudden cloud. 

“Yes,” agreed Priscilla, “no one would ever 
think you could be in New York in an hour. 
Now, here we are at the Perrhyn house, and the 
trail up Bald Torne starts right behind the 
lawn. ’ 9 

The Perrhyn house, which stood on the river 
bank facing the stream, was a three-story 
white-painted mansion, of very graceful de¬ 
sign, and had an especially beautiful doorway, 
with slim pillars, fanlight, and colored glass 
side-windows. Rather incongruously, a square 
wooden tower, which bore a brilliant purple and 
green weathercock, had been added to one cor¬ 
ner of the house, evidently long after it had 
been erected. This gave the mansion a curious 
lop-sided appearance, but it was nevertheless 
a substantial, attractive home. The large 
lawns surrounding it, even now of a brilliant 
green, extended beyond the house into grazing 
lands, where cattle could be seen feeding in the 




TORNE TOP 


19 


sunlight near the river, with spick and span 
sheds and outhouses in the distance. 

“Here’s the trail,” cried Priscilla, after a 
brief search along the road. “We must go 
single file, and watch the path carefully. The 
underbrush is very thick.” 

Dense clumps of sumac, sassafras, and sweet 
fern crowded on the winding, climbing path, 
and so did chestnut, hickory and birch trees, but 
these did not darken it, for they were young 
and small, and the sunlight poured through 
their bright foliage. Interspersing the under¬ 
brush everywhere were gray boulders, large 
and small, seemingly flung down in the most 
fantastic positions. 

“Oh, why does the path go over all the 
stones?” groaned the plump Helena, who had 
been toiling along heroically uncomplaining. 
“I believe I’ll just walk around some of these 
boulders and save my shoes.” 

“Don’t go off the path!” warned Priscilla. 
“We’re nearly up to the top, girls. No, you 
wouldn’t get lost, Joyce, but you might fall into 
a charcoal pit. They’re hidden all over in the 
woods here.” 

“What’s a charcoal pit?” Joyce inquired. 

“It’s a hole in the ground where the char¬ 
coal burners used to bum charcoal for the iron 
workers who smelted the ore that the miners 
dug.” 

The long line hurried faster under the red 




20 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


trees, through sunshine which momentarily 
grew brighter as the top of the Torne was ap¬ 
proached. The trees grew smaller, and the 
bushes thinner, and soon Torne Top could be 
seen in the distance as a very broad, flat extent 
of land, quite “bald” except for a few clumps 
of brush. 

“Hurrah! We’re there!” cried Virginia, 
rushing forward as the path began to widen. 
“Mousey, I’ll race you to that big rock beyond 
those bushes! ’’ 

Fleet Muriel accepted the challenge instantly, 
but Virginia outstripped her. She left Muriel 
behind, left all the others far behind, reached 
the clump of brush, and then, still going at full 
speed, tripped violently on what looked like one 
of the omnipresent gray boulders. Managing 
to leap the obstacle, but unable to control her¬ 
self, she staggered wildly toward a depression 
to the left of the rock that was her goal. 

“Jinny, stop! That’s a charcoal pit!” 
screamed Priscilla, running forward with all 
her strength. 

But before the words were out of her mouth 
the “boulder” came to life. A tall young man 
shot up from behind the clump of brush, kicked 
a gray blanket off his feet, snatched at Vir¬ 
ginia’s arm as she lurched past him, missed 
her, plunged after her, and seized her just on 
the edge of the hole. 

“Hey, little girl! Tell the motorman to 





TORNE TOP 


21 


stop!” he cried. “Do you want to go to 
China?” 

“Oh, nol” Virginia clutched her rescuer’s 
arm with the fierce grip of wiry thirteen, and 
remained riveted to the ground in fright. 

“Well, then, come away!” advised the young 
man, drawing her firmly back from the pit. 
“No use standing there, is there?” He man¬ 
aged to steer her around in the direction from 
which she had come, and faced eight gorgeous 
sweaters. “Gosh, what a lot of girls!” 

“Oh, Jinny,” cried Priscilla, “you fright¬ 
ened us so! ” 

“The little girl’s all right,” said Virginia’s 
rescuer soothingly, “don’t be frightened. By 
the way, of course I don’t suppose you remem¬ 
ber me, Miss Priscilla, but my name’s Keith 
Perrhyn.” 

“Yes, indeed, I remember you well,” said 
Priscilla cordially. “We met you that day I 
was driving with my father and brothers. I’m 
sure we’re all awfully grateful to you for sav¬ 
ing Virginia so wonderfully.” 

“I should think so!” cried Aline, who had 
come up to her younger sister’s side. “Jinny, 
do say something! And do let go of this gentle¬ 
man’s arm! First you kick him, and then you 
pinch him, and then when he saves your life 
you don’t even thank him!” 

“Don’t say a word, please!” begged Keith 
politely, though he looked relieved as Virginia 






22 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


loosened her grip. ** Some muscle there !” he 
added with a teasing grin. 

He seemed not at all embarrassed by his sud¬ 
den visitation, this light-haired boyish fellow 
with twinkling gray eyes. His gray flannel 
shirt and khaki trousers in no way marked him 
as belonging to what Helena had called a 
“prominent” family, but his graceful manners 
and pleasant voice proclaimed his breeding. 
Virginia warmed to him at once. 

“Oh, thank you! I’m ever so much obliged 
to you for saving my life,” she assured him 
gratefully. “That’s my fourth narrow escape 
this summer—think of it! How nice it is up 
here! Oh, see the dear little fire and the pretty 
blankets and nice coffee-pots and things! Is 
this your camp!” 

“Why, in a way,” replied Keith, much 
amused. 1 * My kid brother and I, ” he explained 
to his visitors, “often come up here in the after¬ 
noon when we’re through our work for the day, 
because we like to sleep outdoors. This is near 
our house, you know. ’ ’ 

“Yes, we saw your house on our way here. 
It’s lovely!” cried the admiring Virginia. 
“Priscilla, now show us Cecily Graham’s house, 
too.” 

To the utter astonishment of all the girls, the 
panic-stricken expression which had vanished 
from Virginia’s face flashed across Priscilla’s. 
Keith’s smile was gone, and his gray eyes were 




TORNE TOP 


23 


as hard as steel. With an effort, Priscilla ral¬ 
lied her powers, and, ignoring Virginia, said 
with smiling apology to Keith: 

“Pm afraid we’re disturbing you in all sorts 
of ways! But these are my friends from New 
York who are visiting me, and I’ve brought 
them up the Torne just for a few minutes to 
look over the Ramapos.” 

“That’s the orthodox thing to do,” approved 
Keith, suddenly amiable again. “Regular 
sight-seeing tour, this Bald Torne is!” 

“Then get your megaphone and begin the 
lecture, Prissy,” urged Helena, helping her 
hostess along. “On the right we see—what?” 

“That double chain of precipices which 
forms Highland Pass,” responded Priscilla, 
readily snatching the cue. “Through this Pass, 
ladies and gentlemen, you can behold the silver 
Ramapo racing towards the sea. Surrounding 
you on all sides you perceive scores of moun¬ 
tain summits, averaging about twelve hundred 
feet in height, characterized by precipitous 
granite and limestone cliffs, and interspersed 
with numerous lakes, brooks, and villages! 
Yonder, far to the east, flows the lordly Hud¬ 
son!” 

“Hurray! You tell ’em!” applauded Keith. 

1 ‘ That’s all I know, ’ ’ demurred Priscilla mod¬ 
estly. “Why don’t you tell us?” 

“Want me to do the honors of my native 




24 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


heath? Well, if you insist! I tell you, I’m very 
proud of it!” 

“I should think you would be!” said Rose 
warmly. 

“What! Do you know about it?” Keith 
spoke eagerly. 

“I know the Pass was a patriot stronghold 
during the Revolution, and that the Ramapo 
mountains have made a great deal of history. 
We’re near West Point, aren’t we?” 

“About eighteen miles southwest of it,” an¬ 
swered Keith. “Yes, Washington’s armies 
camped here three different times, holding this 
Pass in order to keep West Point from being 
invaded from the south. You know it was 
called ‘the Gibraltar of the Hudson,’ because 
it was the patriots ’ chief stronghold. They had 
to hold it because it was the point of communi¬ 
cation between New England and New York 
and states south. But the Ramapos didn’t only 
protect West Point—they furnished the iron 
for the great chain that defended the Hudson!” 

Poor* Virginia, of course, could not miss such 
an opportunity for a blunder. 

“What chain? I never heard of it,” she re¬ 
marked. 

“Nonsense, Jinny, you’ve forgotten!” Pris¬ 
cilla thanked her stars that such a student as 
Evelyn was ready to rush into the fray here. 
“Why, they teach that in Grade 1A! It was a 
big iron chain made by the patriots to prevent 




TORNE TOP 


25 


the British fleet from ascending the Hudson, 
and they stretched it across the river between 
West Point and Constitution Island, which is 
right nearby. Isn’t that right!” Evelyn ap¬ 
pealed to Keith. 

“Fine! I’ll let you off on the date, because 
I want to tell it myself! It was 1778.” 

“Just fancy there being mines here then!” 
cried Evelyn. 

“Oh, that mine where the iron was dug for 
the chain was opened in 1750, and it’s still be¬ 
ing worked.” A curious struggle flashed across 
Keith’s face as he spoke. It was as though lo¬ 
cal pride and some deep personal feeling were 
intermingled. “Oh, there have been a great 
many mines in these mountains and in the Hud¬ 
son Highlands over there to the east, though 
not many are operated to-day. But now I must 
show you some of the sights. First of all, 
there’s Lake Nanaukee, where your brothers 
are camping now, aren’t they, Miss Priscilla?” 
He pointed out a small hazy sheet of water 
far to the east, just visible in the surrounding 
woods. 

“Yes, and a number of our other boys are 
there, too. Dorothy, your brother Paul’s at 
Nanaukee, isn’t he? And your three famous 
Sutherland cousins got up the camping-party, 
didn’t they, Muriel? I suppose you’ve camped 
there, too,” added Priscilla, addressing Keith. 

“Often. It’s a great country. Listen, Miss 




26 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


Priscilla, why don’t you get some older people 
to go with you, and take your friends all 
through that section on the Two-Day Hike as 
far as the Hudson?” 

“What a fine idea!” cried Priscilla. “But 
it’s twenty-five miles by trail to the river, isn’t 
it!” 

“You can break the trip at the hikers’ shel¬ 
ter. Oh, I forgot! You’d all be frightened.” 

“Of what?” demanded a scornful chorus. 

“Of—oh, no, I’d better not tell you!” 

“Tell us, Priscilla!” commanded Dorothy. 
“You know we’re not afraid of anything!” 

“It’s just this,” laughed Priscilla, “the nick¬ 
name of the hikers’ shelter, which is really a 
small inn, very nicely kept, is ‘Haunted 
House!’ ” 

“Oh, I want to go!” cried Virginia eagerly. 

“Jinny,” said the long-suffering Aline, “let 
Priscilla make her own plans, for goodness’ 
sake!” 

“I hope we can, Jinny. We’ll see,” prom¬ 
ised Priscilla with enthusiasm. “Now we 
ought to take in all the other views from Tome 
Top quickly, for it’s darker down in the valley 
than it is up here, and we’ll have to go home 
soon.” 

So Keith led the visitors around from point 
to point on the Torne, pointing out all sorts of 
interesting local curiosities—old mine shafts, 
long abandoned, prospect shafts which after a 




TORNE TOP 


27 


short time had been given up becanse their 
yield of ore was too small to be valuable, a tall 
stone tower or two, far away, called a “bloom- 
ery, ’’ in which the ore of long ago was smelted. 
Far in the distance he indicated a group of 
houses at the base of one of the mountains, and 
close beside a large lake, of which he remarked 
briefly: 

“That’s Snowdon, three miles from Sterling, 
just around the bend. The Sterling mine is 
where the chain was forged.” 

“Oh, Priscilla, that’s where”- 

But Virginia for once was silenced. For once 
Priscilla’s soft blue eyes had shot out a posi¬ 
tively fierce glance. Keith, engaged in explain¬ 
ing the method of making charcoal, had for¬ 
tunately not heard Virginia speak. In a few 
minutes, a grateful leave-taking was gracefully 
staged, and the girls started down the trail for 
The Log Cabin. 

“Did you know all that interesting historical 
stuff, Priscilla?” asked Dorothy, as they re¬ 
traced their steps. 

“No, indeed. I’m so glad we met Keith 
Perrhyn.” 

“Yes, I’m awfully glad I nearly fell into the 
charcoal-pit!” cried Virginia enthusiastically. 
“I think Keith was perfectly lovely! But oh, 
Priscilla, you never showed us Cecily’s house!” 

Priscilla stopped short and looked at Vir¬ 
ginia with the calmness of despair. The- other 




28 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


girls, aware that some real mystery of a rather 
appalling kind had been involved in their after¬ 
noon’s excursion, first felt somewhat alarmed, 
and then, as Virginia continued entirely uncon¬ 
scious of her numerous blunders, all began to 
laugh uncontrollably. 

“Well, Jinny,” said Priscilla finally, “you 
can see the house when we get around this 
curve. I couldn’t show it to you on the top of 
the Torne because Keith was there, and his 
family and Cecily’s haven’t spoken to each 
other for seventy years! ’ ’ 

“Oh—oh—-oh!” gasped Virginia. “Why 
not!” 

“It’s a very long story. Girls, I’ll tell you 
what: this evening I’ll ask father to tell it to 
us. He knows it better than I do, and it’s the 
great ‘Tale of the Valley,’ as they call it here. 
You’ll enjoy it. I think, though, it’s really very 
sad in a way. Now, here’s the turn, and there’s 
the Graham house. ’ ’ 

Set in a clearing a hundred feet below the 
turn, across a deep cleft through which the 
road ran far below, was the Graham mansion, 
a rambling gray building with a lawn in front 
and a sunken garden, now full of purple asters 
and yellow chrysanthemums, on the cliff over¬ 
hanging the road, on one side. On the lawn 
were scattered, here and there, curious black 
objects, apparently made of iron, ornaments 
that represented deer, fawns, herons, and other 




TORNE TOP 


29 


subjects of natural history. In the garden, in 
the last rays of the sun, which was sinking 
rapidly over the Pass, was a slight girlish fig¬ 
ure in a rust-colored cape, gathering chrys¬ 
anthemums. 

‘‘That’s Cecily herself!” cried Priscilla, rec¬ 
ognizing the figure. “Oh, Cecily! Cecily!” 

Cecily looked up and across the cleft, and 
saw the gay crowd of friends standing on the 
ledge opposite, a sort of link, quite unknown 
to her, between herself and her family’s heredi¬ 
tary enemy. She waved her chrysanthemums, 
and began to whistle “Auld Lang Syne.” 




CHAPTER m 


GRAHAMS ON THE HILL, PERBHYNS BY THE RIVER 

HE living-room of The Log Cabin was 



large enough to hold nine girls easily. 


Like everything else about the house, it 
was arranged for both comfort and beauty. As 
the outside of the Cabin was built of rough logs 
hewn in the surrounding forest, so the inside 
was constructed of the same sort of hard wood, 
which had been planed smooth and left its nat¬ 
ural color. The front door of the house opened 
into the living-room, which, with its warm light- 
brown walls, mission furniture, and bright Nav¬ 
ajo rugs, was a most cheerful place. To the 
left the dining-room was situated, and to the 
right & library. 

This evening, after the climb up the Tome, 
the Nine were sitting in a ring around an im¬ 
mense fire which was blazing under the big gray 
stone mantelpiece. Joyce and Muriel were 
toasting marshmallows for the whole company, 
while cider and ginger-snaps were going for- 


30 


GRAHAMS ON THE HILL 


31 


ward, and everyone was in a most agreeable 
and receptive mood. 

Helena had been waiting for just such a mo¬ 
ment. She was a girl of many ideas, and her 
love for activity and elegance made her eager 
to have the club always up-to-date. Since 
Evelyn’s friendship had helped her out of a 
serious blunder the previous spring, she had 
grown much more companionable than before, 
so that the other girls, instead of despising 
her little airs and graces as they once had done, 
were now rather inclined to admire them, as 
well as her numerous accomplishments. 

Helena passed the ginger-snaps, and spoke 
impressively: 

“ Girls! I have thought of the most perfectly 
wonderful thing for us Linger-Nots to have!” 

“I hope it’s not expensive,” said Dorothy 
promptly. 

“The treasurer always has to make that re¬ 
mark,” scoffed Helena, “so I’m glad it’s over! 
No, what I have in mind will be just heaps of 
fun, and won’t cost one cent.” 

“For goodness’ sake,” chorused the aston¬ 
ished crowd, forgetting to eat, “tell us what 
it is!” 

“Let’s have a daily newspaper, every day 
we’re here!” 

“Helena, what a splendid idea! It takes you 
to think of things like that! Shall you write it! 




32 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


What 11 we put in it?” cried everybody at once 
in great enthusiasm. 

“Oh, Evelyn must run it,” began Helena. 

“Of course!” agreed everybody but Evelyn, 
who protested: 

“I don’t know how!” 

“You can learn. The majority rules here, 
Evelyn!” warned Priscilla sternly. “You’re 
drafted!” 

“And I thought all of us could contribute 
to it,” went on Helena, much pleased with the 
warm reception accorded to her plan. “It 
would be about all the things we do every day. 
It must always be very funny and cheerful, of 
course, Evelyn, but then you know how to write 
that way, so it’ll be quite easy for you to do 
that.” 

“No matter what happens, I’m to be funny 
and cheerful! Very well,” promised the new 
editor obediently. “I suppose you want it long, 
too!” 

i ‘ No, a page a day will be enough. Look! I 
brought up some paper for you. Wasn’t I 
kind?” The far-sighted Helena slid her hand 
beneath one of the cushions on the couch where 
she was sitting, and produced a thick package 
of neat yellow scratch-paper, foolscap size. 

“Oh, dear! A whole page?” Evelyn looked 
appealingly at Rose. 

“Why, yes, that isn’t much!” cried Rose, 
basely deserting her best friend and backing 




GRAHAMS ON THE HILL 


33 


Helena with a twinkle in her eye. “But you 
need make only one copy, and post it up on the 
mantelpiece for us all to read.” 

“Yes, it must come out every morning,” de¬ 
clared Helena. “And it must be all about us, 
Evelyn. Don ’t forget that. ’’ 

“I don’t seem to have very much to say about 
this paper,” remarked the editor feebly. “What 
do you girls want it called!’ 9 

“We might name it the Record, or the Chron¬ 
icle, if it’s to tell what we’re doing,” suggested 
Dorothy. 

“Oh, don’t you think something inspiring, 
like Progress, or The Star, is nicer?” put in 
Aline. 

Muriel suddenly turned from the fire with a 
plate of toasted marshmallows. 

“All those names,” she announced, “are old. 
If that paper is to be about us, and we’re here, 
I think we ought to call it The Log Cabin Con¬ 
stellation. 9 9 

This suggestion was received with such 
thunderous applause even from Evelyn, that 
Mr. Cleveland, who had been sitting with his 
wife in the library, tiptoed to the door, and 
peered in on the nine rapturous girls. 

“Oh, that reminds me!” Priscilla hastily 
rushed to her parent with a large mug of cider, 
and blocked the doorway. “You mustn’t go 
away, father, we want you. Stay here and 




34 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


you’ll be well treated! The girls want you to 
tell them the Tale of the Valley.” 

44 My dear daughter! Are you sure you’re 
all in a mood for a dismal story?” 

4 4 Yes, indeed. Sad things are so interesting, 
especially at night by a fire,” observed Joyce. 

She voiced the feeling of everyone present, 
for the girls all with one accord begged Mr. 
Cleveland to stay. He sat down good-natured¬ 
ly, and began: 

4 4 So long as the story has been public prop¬ 
erty in this valley for seventy years, I’m not 
violating any confidence in telling you young 
ladies about a family feud which could occur, 
I think, only in a remote, shut-in valley like this 
one”- 

Bang! Crash! Whush-sh-sh! The shutters 
on the big window at the back of the living- 
room slammed against the window-frame with 
a violence that made the glass ring. Somebody 
screamed, everybody jumped, and Priscilla 
sprang to the window and made the shutters 
fast, crying: 

44 Don’t be frightened, girls, it’s only one of 
the valley wind-storms! We have them often.” 

44 It will last only about ten minutes,” said 
Mr. Cleveland. 44 Which is it to-night, Priscilla, 
Graham or Perrhyn?” 

4 4 Graham, ’ ’ replied Priscilla, sitting down on 
the floor by the fire again, and laughing at the 
mystified audience. 44 That means it’s from the 




GRAHAMS ON THE HILL 


35 


south!” she explained, raising her voice to 
make it heard above the wind, which was rising 
steadily and whistling louder and louder. ‘ ‘If 
it came from the north, it would be Perrhyn! 
You’ll understand when father tells the 
story.” 

‘‘ About 1765,” re-commenced Mr. Cleveland, 

‘‘there came to this region of New York a few 
miles west of the Hudson, a number of Scotch 
and Welsh settlers who had been miners and 
iron-workers in the old country, and they easily 
found profitable employment at the Sterling 
mine and forge. 

“Among the iron-workers were two men who 
brought their families here with them, and 
founded homes. One of these was named 
Graham, the other Perrhyn. The men worked 
side by side in the forge, and their wives and 
children were intimate friends. 

“When the Revolutionary War came, these 
iron-workers took a remarkable part in it. One 
bitter night in March, 1778, when a violent 
snowstorm was raging around the little cot¬ 
tages occupied by workers at Sterling, a heavy 
knock fell on the doors of the Graham and Per¬ 
rhyn homes, and the two men were summoned 
at once to the forge, ‘on business for General 
Washington.’ 

“It was about eleven o’clock on Saturday 
night, and the furnaces had of course been 
banked for the Sunday rest. Nevertheless, the 




36 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


two men at once proceeded to the forge, fighting 
their way through the snow-drifts in the dark, 
and there found Colonel Timothy Pickering and 
Captain Thomas Machin, two of Washington’s 
chief officers. The latter was an engineer, and 
when, in a few moments, all the other iron¬ 
workers came rushing in, he explained to them 
why they and the owner of the mine, who was 
also present, had been so hastily summoned. 

“West Point, which was but a few miles 
away, was to be attacked in the spring by the 
British armies. This had just been discovered 
by secret agents. If the enemy could take it, 
they could separate the patriot armies in New 
England from those in the Middle and Southern 
States. It would be attacked by a fleet in the 
Hudson, as well as by a land force, and to 
prevent that fleet from ascending the river, the 
iron-workers at Sterling were ordered to forge 
at once a chain seventeen hundred feet long, 
weighing a hundred and eighty-six tons! Not 
one instant could be lost. The river was now 
choked with ice, but the task of forging the 
chain was so appallingly great that it was 
doubtful whether, with every effort, it could 
be done by spring. 

“Captain Machin had barely finished speak¬ 
ing, when the whole works burst into activity. 
Men sprang to re-kindle the fires, to heat the 
smelters, to bring in ore. When daylight broke 
on Sunday morning, the forge was roaring, and 




GRAHAMS ON THE HILL 


37 


the first link of the great chain was ringing 
under the hammers of Douglas Graham and 
Evan Perrhyn. ’’ 

At this point in the story, the wind rose to 
such a point as almost to rock the house. Speech 
was impossible, and the group in the firelight 
sat in tense silence until the gusts temporarily 
wore themselves out. Then: 

“Of course they really did finish it in time?” 
asked Dorothy eagerly. 

“In six weeks! Each link weighed a hundred 
pounds or more, and was made of iron bars 
about two and a half inches thick. The links 
were about two and a half feet long. You can 
well realize what an achievement it was to com¬ 
plete this chain, all made by hand, in so short 
a time. By May first it was stretched across the 
Hudson, and I believe that some of the links 
are still preserved at West Point, near their 
original position.” 

“Oh, father, there’s one nearer than West 
Point,” put in Priscilla. 

“I’ll soon come to that. The close friendship 
of Douglas Graham and Evan Perrhyn seemed 
to be cemented more closely than ever by their 
long days and nights of work on the great 
chain. For decades their descendants, also, 
were the best of friends and neighbors. The 
two families came to live in Highland Pass 
when, some years after the Revolution, the 
foundry was moved over to this valley to use 




38 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


the Ramapo water-power. After several gen¬ 
erations, the head of the Perrhyn house gave 
up iron-working and took to farming in this fer¬ 
tile valley, while the head of the Grahams had, 
as it happened, risen to be the owner of the 
works. The families continued on intimate 
terms, and, indeed, each possessed a ve^y in¬ 
teresting memento of their traditional friend¬ 
ship. This was a fragment of the original 
chain. When the war ended, some of the link® 
of the chain came into the possession of private 
individuals, and one, which was irregularly 
broken, was divided between the Grahams and 
the Perrhyns, who certainly had a good claim 
on it. 

“For a long time, the Graham works were 
much more profitable than the large, but heav¬ 
ily forested, Perrhyn farm. Then there came a 
day when the Graham who was Cecily’s great¬ 
grandfather needed more wood to make char¬ 
coal for his smelters. He offered to buy a strip 
of the Perrhyn forest-land adjoining his foun¬ 
dry. Perrhyn, who was young Keith’s great¬ 
grandfather, refused to sell to his old friend, 
saying that he did not care for a furnace so 
near his home, and so would sell only to a 
farmer. 

“Shortly afterwards, he did sell the land— 
as it happened, at a price considerably lower 
than Graham’s offer—to a newcomer to the 
Valley whose name was Bailey. Bailey cleared 





GRAHAMS ON THE HILL 


39 


part of the land and started farming, and then 
one day, to the amazement of everyone, dis¬ 
covered iron on the land. He set up a fine blast¬ 
furnace near Graham *s, and, beginning to pros¬ 
per, moved from his little farm to a better 
house some distance away. 

“Graham brooded deeply over the turn af¬ 
fairs had taken, the story runs, for many 
months, without saying anything. Then one 
day, meeting Perrhvn near ‘The White House 
by the River/ as the Perrhyn home is called, 
he walked along the road in his company, and 
upbraided him bitterly and violently, letting 
out all his suspicions of the months gone by. 
He accused him of jealousy over the Graham 
success in mining, a jealousy which, Graham 
declared, had made Perrhyn refuse to sell prop¬ 
erty which he had known to contain iron he 
could not use himself, and caused him to sell it 
cheap to a stranger, out of spite. Perrhyn, 
stunned by this attack, first denied the charge 
outright, and declared he had sold the land to 
Bailey because the latter was a hard-working 
man with a large family and little money, who 
had come from his own ancestral town on the 
other side. Then he, too, grew very angry, and 
accused Graham of having secretly discovered 
iron on the land and tried to buy it at the price 
of forest-land, which was of course much 
lower. ’ 9 

“Whew! What a mess l” 





40 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“It was a mess indeed, Dorothy! The two 
men stood at the roadside by the White House, 
and quarreled so violently that several workers 
on the farm heard them, and were able to re¬ 
peat their words. Both of them went so far 
that neither felt able to withdraw his state¬ 
ments. Finalfy, Perrhyn ended the quarrel. 

“On his lawn, near the roadside, stood his 
fragment of the old chain. He went and picked 
it up. He was a powerful man, and with all 
his strength, he flung it down the slope of the 
lawn, aiming it at an old well-curb sunk in the 
ground at the edge of the wood. It bounded 
over the curb, and sank into what had been 
the well on Bailey’s little farm. 

“ ‘There!’ he said, ‘I and mine will speak 
to you and yours when that link is joined again, 
and not before!’ 

“ ‘Agreed!’ cried Graham, white-hot with 
anger. ‘ Bemember, you know what a Graham’s 
word means! ’ 

“And with those words, Graham walked up 
the road to the Gray House on the Hill, and 
there hasn’t been a word exchanged between 
the two families to this day. That, young 
ladies, is the Tale of the Valley, and now that 
it’s told, I notice that the wind is dying down! ’ ’ 

“What a tale!” ejaculated Bose. “But who 
was right, Graham or Perrhyn?” 

“No one knows.” 

“I believe they both were wrong.” 




GRAHAMS ON THE HILL 


41 


“So do I,” agreed Evelyn, “and I'd really 
like to know why the families won't speak to¬ 
day, when the great-grandfathers have been 
dead for years and years." 

“The best family fends are not managed like 
that, Evelyn." Mr. Cleveland smiled faintly, 
then looked quite grave. “Both parties feel 
they have been insulted, neither intends to 
apologize, and so they keep up the quarrel for 
the sake of honor.'' 

“Honor!" echoed Priscilla scornfully. “A 
pretty poor sort of honor, I think! And I'm 
sure Cecily can't like the feud. It's not a bit 
like her to be so unkind." 

“One individual's personal feeling doesn't 
count in a family quarrel, my dear," pointed 
out her father. 

“But does Cecily's mother like it? And do 
Keith's parents ?'' inquired Dorothy. 

“Mrs. Graham is very sweet, but the timidest 
person you ever saw," answered Priscilla, and 
her father nodded in corroboration. “She 
would never dare go against family traditions. 
And Mrs. Perrhyn has been dead a long time. 
I guess this feud is here to stay as long as Mr. 
Douglas Graham and Mr. Evan Perrhyn do!" 

“Unfortunately, you are quite right, I 
think," agreed Mr. Cleveland soberly. “I 
heard only to-day that this old, old, deplorable 
disagreement has grown even worse lately. 
You see, Mr. Perrhyn is chairman of the school- 




42 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FHlfD 


board which built the new schoolhouse in the 
village. Mr. Graham’s foundry makes wrought- 
iron work, and he was asked by the board to 
submit estimates for furnishing railings and 
window-boxes. He declined. Why, no one has 
yet had a chance to discover, for Mr. Perrhyn 
at once took the ground that the refusal was 
to spite him, and he wants the contract given to 
an outsider. Yes, very absurd! But a contin¬ 
ued misunderstanding between two leading cit¬ 
izens can’t do this community much good.” 

“It seems too ridiculous and wicked!” said 
Evelyn. “By the way, Priscilla, where is the 
link you said was nearby? I’d love to see it.” 

“Why, it’s the Graham fragment of the 
broken link—about two-thirds of a full-sized 
one—and it’s standing on the Graham lawn 
right near the garden, with the rest of the 
menagerie, as Cecily calls those iron beasts and 
birds. She’s very proud of them—her iron- 
working ancestors made them.” 

“But can’t anyone do anything to stop this 
feud?” asked Aline anxiously. 

“No,” Helena assured her, “it’s dreadfully 
bad form to interfere in a feud.” She would 
doubtless have related some interesting experi¬ 
ences in this connection, when the telephone 
bell at her elbow pealed out a sharp summons. 
“Priscilla, this is for you.” 

“Yes? ... Oh, it’s you, Cecily! . . . That will 




GRAHAMS ON THE HILL 


43 


be very nice . . . thank you so much. ... We’ll 
surely be there! Good-by!” 

‘ 1 Cecily says to meet her at the foundry sta¬ 
tion at ten o’clock on Saturday morning, and 
we ’ll go over to the Snowdon works on the nar¬ 
row gauge road that runs to them from the 
foundry,” explained Priscilla. 

“What fun!” cried Dorothy. “But, Mr. 
Cleveland, you never told us about the wind.” 

“I forgot! This sheltered valley has those 
peculiar windstorms occasionally, and the na¬ 
tives call them Graham and Perrhyn quarrel¬ 
ing. Of course they have a scientific explana¬ 
tion—they’re due to some very queer kind of 
air-current over this deep cut in the hills, and 
they shrieked and wrangled long before the 
quarrel ever took place. Still, the local name 
shows what a part of life in the Valley the 
feud has become. ’ ’ 

“Well, you’ve told us a most interesting 
story, Mr. Cleveland,” said Helena enthusias¬ 
tically. 

“Yes,” agreed Priscilla, “it certainly is a 
wonderful way to entertain people, to bring 
them up here to the wilderness and plunge them 
straight into a feud! ’ ’ 




CHAPTER IV 

WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 


THE LOG CABIN CONSTELLATION 


DIPLOMATIC 

NEWS 

Yesterday morning Master 
Alec Cleveland, with his 
young friend, Master Leonard 
Sutherland, paid a surprise 
visit to The Log Cabin. They 
tramped over from camp to 
get Alec’s sling-shot, which he 
usually keeps in a corner of 
the closet in his room, with 
his rubber boots. 

Mrs. Cleveland, doubting 
her son’s ability to appreciate 
the tasteful interior decora¬ 
tions recently made in that 
apartment, turned the conver¬ 
sation deftly to hot ginger¬ 
bread. The subject was well 
received. 

During the reception, Mrs. 
Cleveland secretly telephoned 
to The Store, where Miss P. 
Cleveland had gone with her 
guests to shop for The Party 
(of which more anon). She 
learned that the sling-shot, 
neatly wrapped up in white 
tissue-paper and enclosed in a 
box, was in the right-hand 
front corner of the third 
dresser-drawer. 


A secret agent restored it to 
the fortunate owner, and them 
baked another loaf of ginger¬ 
bread. 


* * • • 

FASHION NOTE 

Hats will be worn by the 
party for Snowdon this morn¬ 
ing. 

# * * * 

GRAND EXTRA!! 
CONTRIBUTION 

There was a young Linger- 
Not gay 

Composed a newspaper each 
day, 

While sweeping the kitchen, 
With never a hitch in. 

A pretty clean sweep, one 
might say! 

By P. C. and D. S. 

* * * * 

PLEASANT 

PERSONALITIES 

Miss V. Gaines fell out of 
bed at 2:30 a. m. to-day, wak- 


WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 45 


ing everyone in the house but 
herself. 

* * * * 

Miss D. Stone has been 
awarded the World’s Altitude 
Medal for climbing the oak- 
tree on the front lawn and 
coaxing down Darius the Per¬ 
sian, our hostess’ young kitty, 
who, it is thought, had as¬ 
cended the tree in search of 
his tail. 

# * * * 

Miss M. Ives has bought a 
tasteful collar in Brockway. 
Her maid forgot to pack her 
extra one. She says she likes 
the new one better than any 
collar she ever bought in 
Paris. 

* # * * 

PRACTICAL 

PHILANTHROPY 

Yesterday Miss Aline 
Gaines, finding a stray foun¬ 
tain-pen on the back porch, 
helpfully took it and put it 
conspicuously on the sitting- 
room table for the owner to 
find. 

It belonged to Miss H. Haw¬ 
thorne, who was going to sit 


on the back porch and write 
to her mother while drying 
her hair. After a vain search, 
Miss H. H. gave up the pen, 
wrote in pencil, and on going 
into the village to mail the 
letter, bought a new fountain- 
pen. 

Still, they say you never 
can have too many of such 
things. 

* # # * 

EDITORIAL 

The Editor is flattered to 
death to see everybody fight¬ 
ing for a front seat when The 
Constellation is posted. 

Nevertheless, our motto is 
Deeds, not Words. We prefer 
fewer compliments and more 
contributions, because we hate 
to work. 

Our terms are: 

All contributions accepted. 

None paid for. 

If this isn’t democratic, 
what is? 

If contributions are not 
forthcoming, after such an 
offer, REVENGE will be! 

WE WILL NOT PRINT 
ANYBODY’S NAME IN THE 
PAPER! 


As might be guessed from the intimation in 
the stern closing article, a rapt throng was as¬ 
sembled around the fireplace on Saturday morn¬ 
ing, and it was the truth that most of the com¬ 
pany were engaged in the natural and harm¬ 
less occupation of admiring their own names in 




46 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


print. Of course Aline found time also to be 
compassionate. 

“Poor Evelyn! Girls, it does seem as if she 
was doing all the work. Oughtn’t we to help 
her?” she suggested. 

“Yes, I know how,” announced Dorothy, who 
was never slow in making decisions. 

“How? There she is, coming downstairs 
now. Why don’t you tell her?” 

“Keep still! Don’t say a word to her about 
it, anybody! I’ll tell you all afterwards!” 
Dorothy had just time to issue her orders in an 
undertone as Evelyn appeared, all ready for 
Snowdon. 

“Well, Evelyn, you see us all with our hats 
on! And I hope that before you go off on pleas¬ 
ure, you swept the kitchen?” inquired Rose 
innocently. She loved to tease her sedate 
friend, or, rather, to try to. 

“I’ll be ready when I’ve fed Darius the Per¬ 
sian,” announced Priscilla, departing to find 
her pet. “He was ever so much pleased to see 
his name in the paper!” 

“I expect everybody will want an evening 
edition of The Constellation soon, it’s so widely 
read,” retorted Evelyn languidly, and was ac¬ 
corded the honors of war. 

In a few minutes all the girls were swinging 
south along the river-road to Brockway. The 
fine, clear autumn weather still held, and in the 
brilliant morning sunlight the little foundry 
village took on a picturesque charm of its own, 




WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 47 


that charm which long-settled places always 
have. Its main street was a long row of work¬ 
men’s cottages, painted a rich crimson. These 
were stretched along the narrow bank on one 
side of the gray rushing river, and on the other 
side were the brown foundry sheds, a quaint old 
gray stone church, and the cheerful yellow 
wooden store where collars and fountain-pens 
and everything necessary for an elaborate so¬ 
cial function, like Priscilla’s coming party, 
could be obtained. At one end of the main 
street was a neat, but rather bare-looking 
schoolhouse, with a flag flying beside it. It was 
across the river from the railroad station, 
which in turn was situated just below the foun¬ 
dry and the river dam. 

Several cars were standing on the railroad 
tracks near the foundry, and workmen could be 
seen rushing in and out with handcarts loaded 
with crates which they transferred rapidly to 
the railroad cars. 

4 ‘Those boxes are full of the wrought-iron 
decorations they make in the foundry,” ex¬ 
plained Priscilla. “Oh, there is Cecily! See, 
up on that platform by the front shed. We’re 
going to have an audience to cheer us on our 
way over the river!” 

“You don’t mean to say we’re to cross over 
that?" demanded Aline, stopping short in con¬ 
sternation as Priscilla started dancing down 
the river-bank toward an arrangement of 




48 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


planks which spanned the river just below the 
dam. 

“Yes, it’s too late to go around by the big 
bridge. Now, girls, we must go one at a time. 
Look!” Priscilla set her foot on the first plank, 
and the bridge swayed up and down very grace¬ 
fully over the torrent. 

“Come on, hurry!” cried Cecily’s voice, and 
Cecily, in a pretty green jersey sport suit and 
rainbow scarf, beckoned enthusiastically from 
the station platform. 

Priscilla bounded on the plank and skipped 
over the rushing current with the ease born 
of long experience, Dorothy and Joyce followed 
her merrily. Aline watched their progress 
dolefully. 

“Jinny,” she demanded solemnly, turning to 
her young sister, “are you going to fall in?” 

“Of course not!” cried Virginia indignantly. 
“The idea of saying such a thing! I can’t im¬ 
agine what makes you!” and she crossed the 
bridge with a light, firm tread, and in record 
time. 

“Well,” confided Aline to Helena, as she pre¬ 
pared to follow her sister, “I certainly did 
work over that child this morning! But it paid, 
didn’t it?” 

Helena wondered privately whether pro¬ 
longed hair-dressing operations, much tying 
and re-tying of shoe laces and sweater sash, 
and profound admonitions not to do “things 



WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 49 


like” calling Miss Graham “Cecily” unless 
specifically requested to do so, had much con¬ 
nection with keeping one’s balance on a plank. 
The next moment all nine girls were on the 
little platform, and Priscilla, with a grace that 
did her credit, was performing the nine neces¬ 
sary introductions between her guests and Miss 
Cecily Graham. And then- 

“I’m so glad to meet you, Missily!” cried 
the hapless Virginia, with great enthusiasm. 

How Aline looked at that moment, Helena 
never knew. Cecily burst out laughing, and 
everyone had to join her. Virginia had at least 
broken the ice. 

“What a relief, after being called Sis¬ 
sy and Silly and even Whistle-y, all my 
life!” cried Cecily. “Of course ‘ Cecily’ 
is what I really like all my friends to 
call me, so I hope you all will. Girls, 
I’m so glad to see you all up here ‘appearing 
in person,’ as they say of famous movie char¬ 
acters. Priscilla has told me all about every 
one of you, and I’m not surprised to see you 
cross our famous plank bridge we’re so proud 
of, just like Ramapo natives, especially Vir¬ 
ginia. I believe she’s just the girl to ride in a 
box-car, for that’s what I find is provided for 
us this morning.” 

Cecily waved her hand toward the end of the 
station, where, sure enough, were three small 
box-cars coupled together on the narrow-gauge 



50 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


electric rail that ran west up a low hill and dis¬ 
appeared against the sky-line. The first two 
cars were loaded with machinery, the third was 
empty, and had evidently been swept very clean. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m inhospitable,” 
explained Cecily. “We don’t have private cars 
on this railroad! It’s only eight miles to the 
furnace, you know, and this is much the best 
way to go. ’ ’ 

Cecily marshaled her guests into the car, and 
in a moment a motorman came running from 
the shed, climbed into the first car, and pre¬ 
pared to start. 

“What are we taking over, Peters?” called 
Cecily. 

“Busted machines that the welders mended, 
Miss Graham, and we’re to bring back pigs,” 
replied Peters, starting the train. 

“He means pig-iron—iron cast in oblongs, to 
use for the foundry-work,” explained Cecily, 
giggling at the stupefaction of her guests. 
“We don’t raise animals in our iron-works!” 

Why Virginia missed this opportunity of al¬ 
luding gracefully to opportunities for dairy¬ 
farming in the vicinity, no one ever knew. Per¬ 
haps the delightful bouncing of the box-car oc¬ 
cupied her attention fully. The country through 
which the train was speeding was like a “close- 
up” of what the girls had seen a few days ago 
from the top of The Torne. The gray rocks could 
be seen half shrouded in luxuriant golden-rod 




WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 51 


and blue and purple asters, the red berries of 
the sumac trees could be distinguished from 
their slightly less brilliant foliage, the count¬ 
less little brooks could be heard as well as seen 
in their glittering beauty. Still, however, the 
country preserved its characteristic of mystery. 
Not a person, not a house, was passed until the 
sunlight suddenly flashed on a tall yellow brick 
tower in the distance. 

“That’s the furnace,” explained Cecily, 
pointing to the tower, “and beyond those woods 
is the Sterling mine.” 

The girls looked with great interest at the 
historic spot, and Cecily promptly guessed the 
reason. 

“You know the West Point chain was made 
there, don’t you, girls?” she asked, with a 
simple pride that was very touching. “You 
won’t mind if I brag about it just once? My 
ancestors made it, you know.” 

“How could you brag too much about that?” 
laughed Dorothy. “I guess everybody here is 
pretty proud of that chain, and with reason! 
We’ve heard lots about it. It was a wonderful 
feat to make it.” 

“It was wonderful iron. I’ll ask father to 
tell you about it.” Cecily sternly refused her 
ancestors any further credit. “Here we are at 
last! Thank you, Peters! We had a nice 
smooth crossing.” 

In the office whither Cecily led the way, Mr. 




52 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


Douglas Graham rose to receive the party as 
they entered. He was a very tall heavy man, 
with a handsome face and thick gray hair, and 
piercing gray eyes, stern, but with a strong 
trace of that fine, honest intelligence which 
made Cecily’s beautiful brown eyes so remark¬ 
able. Mr. Graham kissed his daughter with 
great affection, and welcomed each of her 
friends warmly. 

“Have the other visitors gone on to the fur¬ 
nace ?” asked Cecily. “Oh, good! Then we 
can have you to ourselves, father. The girls 
want you to do the trick with the iron.” 

Mr. Graham laughed good-naturedly, went 
to his desk, and picked up a small box of pens 
lying in front of his blotter. He opened it, 
passed it around to show the contents, and then 
picked up a rough black lump of material which 
held down a pile of papers on the desk like a 
paper-weight. 

i ‘ This is a sample of the kind of iron ore dug 
in the mines in this section, ’ ’ he explained. “ I ’ll 
show you how it’s different from other iron.” 

He held the lump above the open box of pens, 
and instantly several of them jumped up and 
clung tightly to the iron. 

“Why, it’s a magnet!” cried a delighted 
chorus. 

“Yes,” smiled Mr. Graham, pulling the pens 
from the ore, “this kind of iron is called mag¬ 
netite. It’s the finest kind of iron, and New 




WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 53 


York State has the best magnetite mines in the 
country, though only a few of them are worked 
to-day.” 

“Why is that, Mr. Graham?” asked Evelyn. 

“Because magnetite is the most difficult kind 
of iron to mine. The ore is very hard, and 
takes a great deal of heat to smelt, and this 
section isn’t near any coalfields.” 

“Then I think that making the great chain 
must have been a more wonderful feat than we 
ever realized,” cried Rose. “If the iron is hard 
to smelt even now, think what it must have been 
to smelt it in great quantities, without machin¬ 
ery and to roast all the charcoal for the fires!” 

Mr. Graham now led the way from his office 
to the part of the works under the tall tower of 
the blast furnace. The sand floor was built on 
a slope, and at the higher end the furnace was 
roaring. 

“That fire never goes out,” he explained, 
“because if it did, the molten iron in the furnace 
would harden, and we’d have to tear down most 
of the tower to start the work again.” 

“We see the light of the furnace from our 
house up on the hill every night,” said Cecily. 
“It lights up the whole countryside.” 

“I suppose,” said Evelyn, thrilled at the 
idea, “that magic fires like that have lighted 
these hills and valleys every night for a hun¬ 
dred and seventy years! ’ 9 

“And now,” said Mr. Graham, pleased at the 




54 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


interest his visitors showed in a subject not 
likely to be appreciated by girls their age, “look 
at this ditch/’ He pointed out a deep ditch 
running down the center of the sand floor, with 
smaller ditches running out of it. 

“When the molten iron is ready,” he con¬ 
tinued, “they tap the furnace and it runs right 
out into the big ditch and then into the little 
ones, which are called the * pigs/ You see a 
bar of pig-iron three feet long or so is easy to 
handle when we make our wrought-iron work. 
And the great chimney over the furnace is 
built to make strong blasts of air which heat 
the metal hotter and hotter.” 

Everything Mr. Graham showed the girls 
during the rest of an absorbing visit height¬ 
ened their interest in the famous chain, the al¬ 
luring and mysterious country which produced 
it, and in their new friend Cecily, the last de¬ 
scendant of a remarkable family, produced and 
nurtured by the solitary Eamapo mountains. 

At last Peters appeared, and announced that 
all the “pigs” were loaded and the train ready 
to start back to Brockway. 

“Then when you get back, Cecily,” said Mr. 
Graham, seeing the real reluctance of the girls 
to leave such an interesting place as the Snow¬ 
don works, “take these young ladies to the 
foundry, and ask the superintendent to show 
them some of the iron decorations that are be¬ 
ing made there.” 




WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 5^ 


This proposal was received with great de¬ 
light, and after a cordial leave-taking the party 
climbed aboard the box-car again. Evelyn, still 
thrilled by the country, venturesomely climbed 
up several of the slats on the front of the car 
and viewed the landscape from that point. 

Dorothy at last had a chance to divulge her 
plan of helping Evelyn. She produced the 
morning’s Constellation from her pocket, 
pressed it into Cecily’s hand, silently pointing 
out the editorial, and beckoned all her friends 
closer. 

11 Girls, let’s get up a conspiracy! ’’ she whis¬ 
pered, with a twinkle in her black eyes. “Ev¬ 
elyn wants contributions so dreadfully—well, 
let’s give them to her. Let’s see if we can tease 
her just once! We’ll all write contributions, 
and each one can hand hers in separately as if 
it was her own idea, and she wanted to help. 
One at a time, remember! Let’s hand ’em in 
every few hours for the next two days.” 

So the conspiracy was entered into, just a© 
the train arrived at the foundry station. Ce¬ 
cily found the superintendent not too busy to 
spend half an hour showing her guests some- 
of the beautiful wrought-iron work for which; 
American decorators have always been famous. 
Iron balconies, artistic window-gratings* 
wrought-iron lanterns and knockers, pillars for 
gateways, all were seen in the process of mak- 




56 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


ing and in finished form, wrought from the cast- 
iron of the old mine. 

11 Cecily,’’ said Priscilla at last, when the 
girls had been shown everything in the foun¬ 
dry, “this is all new and perfectly wonderful 
to us, but it must be a rather old story to you. 
I don’t think we ought to keep you here any 
longer. ’’ 

“Oh, I always have a splendid time here,” 
cried Cecily, who had been talking to all the 
workmen, calling them by name, and evidently 
enjoying herself very much. “I’m only sorry 
there’s nothing more to show you. No,” as 
the party passed a shed where they had not 
made a visit, “that’s the welding-shop where 
they mend our broken machinery and make re¬ 
pairs on tools. I don’t know if you’d be in¬ 
terested-” 

Out from the door popped a fiery red head. 
It belonged to a lad of perhaps seventeen, who 
also possessed a very pale and freckled face, 
adorned with the cheeriest of grins. He car¬ 
ried a welding-torch in one hand. As he was 
attired in a bright blue denim coat, and had his 
eyes shaded with red goggles, his appearance 
was altogether rather arresting. 

“Why, Bill, I thought you would have gone 
to lunch,” said Cecily, smiling at the vision. 

“Not yet, Miss Cecily, I’m waiting to see 
what work Peters brought back for us to do,” 





WHERE THE CHAIN WAS FORGED 57 


replied Bill, smiling as if work was the whole 
end of his existence. 

“I heard him say something about some 
broken car wheels/ 7 

“Hurray!” cried Bill, “I love ’em!” 

He drew back and disappeared amid general 
regrets. Whoever Bill was, his enthusiasm was 
most engaging. 

“Isn’t he a caution?” laughed Cecily, as the 
party descended the river-bank towards the 
plank crossing. “He’s the apprentice-welder, 
Bill is, one of the old inhabitants of Brockway, 
and he’s just wound up and never stops—either 
his work or mischief.” 

“He’s exactly the sort of person everybody 
calls Bill,” said Dorothy, characterizing him 
quite correctly. 

“Oh, he has another name, of course,” ad¬ 
mitted Cecily. “It’s Bailey. Now, Virginia, 
don’t fall in this time, either!” 




CHAPTER V 


A BREATHING-SPELtL 

I F you’re so good at getting up conspira¬ 
cies, Dorothy, why don’t you get up one 
all by yourself and keep her away for 
the rest of the afternoon?” 

“My dear Evelyn, may I point out the diffi¬ 
culty of organizing a conspiracy without any¬ 
one else in it ? However, if making a plot would 
do-” 

“Splendid! You know we’ll not get it fin¬ 
ished in time at this rate.” 

“Never! Yet we’ve all done our best to head 
her off a dozen times, at least. I think you’ve 
given me a hopeless job. I’m no diplomat, you 
know. ’ ’ 

“My dear, we all have absolute confidence in 
your great talents! ’ ’ 

Evelyn executed a deep mocking bow, which 
would have been very impressive had she not 
had to duck violently at its conclusion to avoid 
Dorothy’s outraged grasp. She fled outdoors, 



A BREATHING-SPELL 


59 


crying: “Get busy, then! Come on, every¬ 
body !” Six other Linger-Nots followed close 
on her heels, and Dorothy, left alone, surren¬ 
dered to fate with a sporting grin, and sat down 
to await Priscilla’s return. 

This time, it appeared, the innings were 
Evelyn’s. For the last two days a trial of en¬ 
durance had been in progress between her and 
Dorothy. Evelyn had, during this period, dis¬ 
covered contributions tied to the broom-handle, 
under her pillow, in the apron pocket which had 
been empty when she had put the apron on, in 
the mail, and even in the keeping of a small 
boy who delivered to her a long envelope ad¬ 
dressed “Editor of The Constellation, The 
Earth.” This document, he averred, had been 
given into his hands by an aviator from the 
planet Mars who had flown down from the 
Torne and flown back again. When Evelyn 
discovered Dorothy handing the small boy some 
apples out of the back door, she found the 
source of the conspiracy, and declared that she 
would some day, somehow, get even. 

Her opportunity had just arrived, two days 
before Priscilla’s birthday. In spite of deter¬ 
mined efforts on the part of all the guests, 
helped by Mrs. Cleveland, Priscilla was so at¬ 
tentive in planning activities for her visitors 
and taking part in them herself, that the girls 
were on the verge of despair over getting her 
birthday present finished. It consisted of a 




60 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


set of a dozen handkerchiefs, each of a different 
color, each ornamented with lace, crocheting, 
or hem-stitching, and Priscilla’s monogram. 
All the materials had been smuggled up to The 
Log Cabin in the “big bag,” which, for reasons 
now clear, had been so carefully packed by 
Joyce. 

Priscilla had fortunately had to go to a 
neighbor’s with a message, and during her ab¬ 
sence it was decided that someone must divert 
her attention for the rest of the afternoon, 
while all the others went down to a favorite 
sheltered nook by the river and worked till sun¬ 
down on the handkerchiefs. 

“Let Dorothy stay. She’s done all the draw¬ 
ing of the threads on the hemstitched handker¬ 
chiefs, and she hates to sew,” Evelyn had sug¬ 
gested. 

As Dorothy was Priscilla’s best friend, and 
had done at least her share of work on the set, 
this proposal met hearty approval. It cer¬ 
tainly sounded very kind and just, but there 
was a faint twinkle in Evelyn’s eye which made 
Dorothy uneasy. However, there was nothing 
to do now but await Priscilla’s return. 

In about five minutes the gate clicked, and she 
came hurrying up the walk. 

“I’m so sorry to keep everybody waiting! I 
ran all the way back,” she panted. “Where 
are all the girls V ’ 

“Just gone to the woods for a little-” 





A BREATHING-SPELL 


61 


“Did they go to the Nook? Let’s go and find 
them. ,, 

“Help, help!” implored Dorothy silently. 
“I didn’t ask them where they were going, 
Priscilla. Oh, let ’em go! You don’t have to 
be doing something for us every single minute, 
you know. Do take a breathing-spell and get 
rested. And don’t be too much flattered if I 
remark that I’d really enjoy a talk with you 
this afternoon, and stayed behind to have it. 
There’s plenty of you to serve eight, but I like 
an extra helping.” 

“How very agreeable! Then let’s go up the 
road and sit a while in that clearing by the Per- 
rhyn house, if you’re sure the girls won’t 
mind,” proposed Priscilla, falling in with Dor¬ 
othy’s plan with the most astonishing readi¬ 
ness. “It does seem an age since I had a real 
talk with you, Dorothy. And we can make the 
party favors while we talk! Evelyn offered to 
help me when I said I’d sew on them this after¬ 
noon, but I’m glad she’s off enjoying herself.” 

The tables were certainly turned on Dorothy, 
and very neatly! For the sake of her cause, 
she submitted to Fate in the shape of Evelyn’s 
kind suggestion, and nearly choked herself try¬ 
ing not to laugh. She promptly helped the un¬ 
conscious Priscilla collect the materials for the 
favors, and the two girls set out at once up the 
road. 

They both really looked forward to enjoying 





62 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


'each other’s society that afternoon, for they 
were close friends and had seen little of one 
another, except in the gronp, since the house- 
party had begun. Priscilla and Dorothy had 
been attracted to one another apparently by 
their wide variation in disposition and char¬ 
acter, just as Pose and Evelyn, who were 
-equally good friends, had been drawn together 
by similarity of tastes and interest in the Jaf- 
frey House museum. There was nothing, ap¬ 
parently, in which Dorothy and Priscilla re¬ 
sembled one another. The former was dark, 
the latter fair, Priscilla was gentle and home- 
loving, Dorothy boyish and daring, Priscilla 
always thought carefully and then acted, Doro¬ 
thy was warm-hearted and impulsive. But each 
had always admired in the other qualities she 
lacked herself, and so their friendship rested 
on a firm foundation. 

“This is a good place to sit,” said Priscilla, 
after a brief walk had brought the two girls 
nearly to the Perrhyn house. She indicated a 
clearing on the edge of the woods just below 
the turn of the road that went past the white 
mansion. ‘ ‘ The leaves are thick on the ground 
here, and we can get the sun, too.” 

The next few minutes were painful ones to 
Dorothy, for they involved learning how to 
make a rose out of pink satin ribbon and adorn 
it with a wire and baby-ribbon stem and leaves. 
Then a little pink satin bag had to be run to- 




A BREATHING-SPELL 


63 


gether, a pink cord inserted for a drawstring, 
and the rose sewed firmly to the bag. At last, 
however, Dorothy passed her apprenticeship 
with credit, and even became able to talk while 
she was sewing. 

“These are lovely favors, Prissy.’’ 

“I do want to have everything very nice for 
Cecily. She has been awfully friendly to me, 
and I’d like to return her attention, if I could. 
I do hope sheTl like the party,” said Priscilla, 
looking a little worried as she tried the effect of 
a rose in different positions. 

“Why, of course she’ll like it. She’s ever so 
nice and appreciative, I think. And not a bit 
stuck up—is she ? ’ ’ 

“No, though she might easily be, I suppose. 
Her people have been so prominent in the Val¬ 
ley such a long time.” 

“Are her parents that way?” 

“Not exactly.” Priscilla hesitated. “Why, 
did you think her father was?” She lowered 
her voice. 

“Not to us—oh, no, indeed! I thought no one 
could have been nicer. I just thought he looked 
proud.” 

“I guess he is,” sighed Priscilla, “and that’s 
one reason this awful feud keeps going, they 
say. And then the next thing ‘they’ always say 
is: ‘The other reason is Mr. Perrhyn!’ ” 

“The father of that boy we met on the 
Tome?” 





64 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Yes. He is said to be just as unyielding as 
Mr. Graham. Dorothy, if you’ll promise not 
to breathe a hint to a soul, I ’ll tell you a secret.” 

“It shall perish with me. Hurry up!” 

“It’s my opinion,” declared Priscilla confi¬ 
dentially, “that it’s just those two older men 
that keep up this feud. You couldn’t make me 
believe that either Cecily or Keith wants it to 
go on.” 

“Why?” Dorothy stared with wide-open 
eyes. “Did they tell you so?” 

“Mercy, no, child! Nobody ever mentions a 
feud to an outsider—that makes me think of 
another thing I want to tell you,” said Priscilla, 
branching off from her narration of the secret. 
“The one thing I haven’t enjoyed this summer 
is the existence of this awful family scrap. You 
might think it couldn’t possibly affect me, espe¬ 
cially as both the families are so friendly to 
me, but the truth is that it makes me so nervous 
that I’ve stayed awake nights over it! What 
should I do—what could I do?—if some day 
when I was with Cecily, Keith should turn up? 
He never has, so far, but if he did, the result 
would be that he’d speak to me, and not to her, 
and I’d speak to her and she wouldn’t speak to 
him, and she’d speak to—Dorothy, I don’t think 
you’d laugh so hard if you knew how much I 
had worried!” 

“I’m not laughing at you, Priscilla dear! I 
just caught the ridiculous side of this crazy old 




A BREATHING-SPELL 


65 


feud,” explained Dorothy repentantly. “I se¬ 
riously do think it 's a dreadful situation. How¬ 
ever, it really won't do a bit of good to try to 
think out what you'd do if you met them both 
at once until that happens. If you do, you'll 
just have to act as you think best. Do finish 
telling me why you think they don't want to 
keep up the feud.” 

“Oh, I forgot! I was busy with my own 
troubles, I guess. Well, the reason I think Ce¬ 
cily regrets it is—you absolutely won't tell I 
told you this, Dorothy?” 

“Never!” 

* 1 Well, then, one day I happened to go up to the 
Gray House on the Hill, and Cecily was stand¬ 
ing on the lawn. She didn't see me, and for¬ 
tunately I didn't happen to call out to her from 
the gate, for when I got a little nearer, I saw 
she was standing staring at the Graham part 
of the link, and her eyes were full of tears!” 

“What on earth did you do?” 

“I walked straight on into the house, and 
sent word that I was there. She doesn't know 
yet that I saw her.” 

‘* How dreadful!'' Dorothy laughed no more, 
and her fingers flew as she thought silently. 

“Now you can understand why I'm afraid 
all the time that something difficult will hap¬ 
pen.” 

“Yes, in a little place like this, I suppose 



66 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


you’re meeting some member of one of the 
families all the time.” 

There was another long interval of silence, 
finally interrupted by a loud rustling in the 
leaves on the road, and in a moment a rider on 
a tall bay horse appeared through the trees. It 
was Keith Perrhyn, in brown tweeds. He drew 
up with a smile, dismounted, and tying his 
horse, came across the road and greeted the 
two girls. 

4 ‘How do you do? And where’s the little 
girl that’s always trying to break her neck and 
never succeeding?” he inquired, sitting down 
on the leaves in response to Priscilla’s invita¬ 
tion. 

“She’s stopped having narrow escapes ever 
since that day on the Torne, ’ ’ replied Dorothy, 
recognizing Virginia’s portrait. “But she 
never stops talking about her miraculous res¬ 
cue. ’ ’ 

“Shucks!” Keith dismissed the topic with 
a reminiscent grin. “Are you making roses 
bloom in September? What for?” 

“For—for a party we’re having,” said Pris¬ 
cilla, and Dorothy then saw how the most inno¬ 
cent question, in that neighborhood, might lead 
to serious results. “These are favors.” 

She held up one finished bag. It was very 
dainty, but the rose pulled one side of it slightly 
awry. 




A BREATHING-SPELL 


67 


“Oh, dear, it’s lop-sided! I cannot sew these 
roses so they balance perfectly." 

“Yon ought to weight the other side of the 
rose, and then it will hang down evenly," sug¬ 
gested Dorothy. 

“I might get little tiny pebbles, perhaps-" 

“Here's something better." Keith plunged 
his hand into one pocket, and drew out a large 
number of tiny bits of metal which he offered 
Priscilla. 

“What are they? Shot!" 

“No, just metal clippings. Bill Bailey gave 
them to me for sinkers. I have a whole lot, so 
you might as well take them as go chasing all 
over after pebbles." 

“Honestly, I do believe you're always around 
when you’re wanted!" exclaimed Dorothy, as 
Priscilla accepted the clippings with delight. 
They were just the right weight to hold the 
lower petals of the rose in place satisfactorily. 

“Well, I'm never around when I'm not 
wanted. That's the secret of my great popu¬ 
larity," declared Keith modestly. He rose. 
“Yes, I do have to go and climb up into the 
watch-tower and do a turn at my French, which 
I'm keeping up since I finished college." 

“You must have a very strong character to 
do that!" cried Priscilla. “Well, good-by! 
We're very grateful to you." 

“You'll never make me believe," declared 
Dorothy, as Keith rode away through the sun- 






68 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


lit woods, “that any boy with that amount of 
intelligence wants to keep up a silly old quar¬ 
rel!” 

“Of course not. No more than Cecily does, 
I do believe. They both know much better, 
even if their fathers, who’ve spent their whole 
lives in this valley, don’t. Why, Cecily went to 
one of the best finishing schools, and she visits 
in New York several weeks every winter, and 
Keith went to Amherst. Anyway, as I was just 
going to tell you when he came along, there’s 
a special reason why I think he doesn’t care 
anything about the feud.” 

“What is it?” 

“His friendship with Bill Bailey. The welder, 
you know, over in Mr. Graham’s works.” 

“Oh, yes, I remember him,” assented Dor¬ 
othy, with a smile at the recollection of the vivid 
Bill, “but I don’t see-” 

“Oh, you don’t know! Bill is the great- 
grandson of the Bailey over whose purchase 
of land the quarrel started between the two 
families.” 

“No! Is he, really?” 

“Yes. Old Bailey’s prospect ran out in a 
few years, and pretty soon he died, leaving his 
family poor, and it’s been poor ever since. 
That’s why Bill works the way he does, and 
lives with his mother in one of those little red 
houses in the village. But, you see, he and 
Keith have known each other all their lives, 






A BREATHING-SPELL 


69 


though Keith is a little older, and while every¬ 
body likes Bill immensely, Keith does particu¬ 
larly, because both he and Bill are champion 
fishermen, and in the summer they go all over 
the mountains fishing together. Now, of course, 
it’s natural enough for a Graham to employ a 
good workman like Bill in a rather humble posi¬ 
tion, but it does seem to me that if a Perrhyn 
was very consistent, he wouldn’t be so friendly 
with a member of the family who made all his 
troubles in the first place, and who happens to 
be employed by his enemy.” 

“I see.” Dorothy nodded soberly. “But if 
both Cecily and Keith want to give up the quar¬ 
rel, why don’t they?” 

“They couldn’t go against their parents, and 
all their traditions! Anyway, I told you about 
Cecily’s ring, didn’t I? A Graham’s word is 
sacred.” 

“They’re both in a bad fix, aren’t they? 
Don’t you wish you could help them out, Pris¬ 
cilla?” 

“I’d give anything in the world to help Ce¬ 
cily, but it’s simply impossible. You can see 
that, can’t you, Dorothy? What is the use of 
talking about it?” 

“No,” declared Dorothy robustly, “I can’t 
see it! I think it’s wrong to say things are im¬ 
possible. I think you ought to make up your 
mind to help Cecily if you ever have a chance, 
and then-” 







70 LINGEB-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Wait for the chance, I suppose.’’ 

“Look for the chance, and keep looking, and 
when it conies, grab it!” Dorothy’s eyes 
flashed with determination. 

“Perhaps you’re right, Dorothy. Anyway, 
it has done me a lot of good to talk to you. 
You’re very refreshing! And now these ten 
bags are done, aren’t they?” Priscilla ar¬ 
ranged them in two pretty pink rows on the 
clean brown leaves, and both girls admired 
them greatly. “Let’s go home now, and find 
the girls, and make some hot chocolate.” 

“Oh, are you hungry?” Dorothy scanned 
the horizon anxiously, for it was still very 
light, and she knew the other girls would still 
be down at the Nook. Her task of detaining 
Priscilla was not yet over. 

“We might go home by the path through the 
woods, if you like, instead of the road, though 
that’s a little longer,” suggested the uncon¬ 
scious Priscilla, putting away her work. 

“That would be fine—why should we hurry? 
Which way does it go?” 

“It starts just across the road here, and goes 
along the river-bank. One branch goes down 
by the Perrhyns’, and the other as far as 
Brockway. ’ ’ 

The girls set out across the road, and as they 
stepped on the path, Dorothy noticed that the 
top of the curious tower on the Perrhyn house 
was visible from where she stood. 




A BREATHING-SPELL 


71 


“That’s what Keith means by the ‘watch 
tower,’ ” explained Priscilla, following the di¬ 
rection of her friend’s gaze. ‘‘He told Eliot it 
was his study now. His great-grandfather 
built it-” 

c 6 The one that started the feud ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, hut long after that happened. Mother 
says that her mother told her that when she 
was a girl everybody put towers like that on 
their houses, because they were very fashion¬ 
able. I suppose fierce old Mr. Perryhn, who 
was just beginning to get rich then, had to have 
one too, and the brightest colored weathercock 
in the whole Valley, even if they didn’t go at all 
with the rest of the house. ’ ’ 

“What a character he must have been! He 
was the man who threw the link down the Bailey 
well, wasn’t he?” 

“Yes, right near here.” 

“Is the well there yet?” asked Dorothy, de¬ 
termined to divert Priscilla’s attention a few 
moments longer. 

“Yes. Turn down here to the left, and I’ll 
show it to you. ’ ’ 

The girls rustled through some underbrush 
and leaves for a few yards, and sure enough, 
there, half sunken in the ground, they found a 
battered old well-curb. They peered into its 
depths, but the wood was so dark they could 
not see far down. 

“I suppose the broken fragment of the link’s 




72 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


down there still,” whispered Dorothy, awed at 
being on the very scene of the famous quarrel. 

“Wouldn’t it be all rusted away by this 
time ? ’ ’ 

“I guess it would. Well, anyway, let’s see 
how deep the well is. I love to throw stones.” 

Over the curb Dorothy tossed a small frag¬ 
ment of rock. There was a rattling sound, then 
silence. 

“That’s funny,” said Dorothy, as the two 
girls stared at each other. “Either the well 
must go down to the bottom of the world, or 
else it’s gone dry. Let’s try again.” 

She carried as large a stone as she could lift 
to the well-curb, and dropped it squarely down 
the center of the well. The next instant there 
was a muffled thud. 

“Dried up,” pronounced Dorothy, “and not 
very deep.” 

“And no link there, either, or we’d have 
heard the stone ring on it. Dorothy, do come 
on!” urged Priscilla. “We’ll never get home 
until sundown now.” 

The plotter turned willingly, and followed 
Priscilla quickly along the woodland path. 

“All right,” she agreed cheerfully, with 
much secret satisfaction over a successful af¬ 
ternoon, “I should just love some hot choco¬ 
late now, after all this—er—sewing, you 
know! ’ ’ 




CHAPTER VI 

A PARTY FOR CECILY 


E ACH pink satin bag with its rose 
ornament has been liberally filled 

with pink and white cream pepper¬ 
mints, and was now reposing at the left- 

hand side of one of the ten places care¬ 

fully laid at the Log Cabin dining table. Pris¬ 
cilla had lavished about half her month's allow¬ 
ance on a pink and white paper luncheon set, 
with napkins to match, which she had ordered 
for this special occasion from the city. Helena, 
assisted by Rose, Aline and Evelyn, had offered 
to make the pink crepe-paper lampshades which 
adorned the graceful glass candlesticks, and 
Dorothy and the three younger girls had 
scoured the countryside for pink and white 
flowers. 

“Do you think it's all right, really, Helena V 9 
asked Priscilla rather nervously, moving the 
centerpiece a quarter of an inch further to the 
right, and then, not liking the effect, returning 


74 LINGER-N0T3 AND VALLEY FEUD 


it to the original position. “Do yon think I’m 
attempting too much? Oh—or maybe it isn’t 
enough! ’ ’ 

“Priscilla Cleveland, you make me tired!” 
laughed Helena. “Do you know how many 
times you’ve asked me if it’s all right, and I’ve 
said ‘Yes’? Seven, since I came down here fif¬ 
teen minutes ago! Come away from that table. 
It looks lovely. Leave it alone! ’ ’ 

“Do you really think so?” 

“Yes, really. Now, that’s eight times!” 

Helena, in crisp lavender organdie, stood and 
laughed at the doleful Priscilla, who at that 
moment was nearly as pale with anxiety as her 
white embroidered linen frock. Priscilla was 
obliged to join in the laugh at herself, and felt 
better directly. 

“Why don’t the other girls come?” she in¬ 
quired. 

“Evelyn is just finishing the telegrams, and 
the three children are putting up their hair in 
honor of Cecily. Everybody really looks quite 
respectable,” declared Helena, as if this condi¬ 
tion represented something unusual among her 
friends. 

Evelyn, entering the next moment in a pale 
pink batiste with a multitude of little white 
ruffles, bore out the statement. 

“Here are all the telegrams, Priscilla,” she 
cried, holding out a package of neatly folded 
telegraph blanks, “and I told all the girls to 



A PARTY FOR CECILY 


75 


come right down, for Cecily’s coming up the 
road. I saw her out of our window. 9 ’ 

There was a scurry of feet on the stairs, a 
stream of gay frocks filling the living-room, a 
quick closing of the dining-room doors and ar¬ 
rangement of the telegrams on the mail-table. 
Priscilla flew trembling to open the door, and 
the next minute all her anxieties had vanished. 
Cecily, in a pretty blue-flowered voile, was one 
of those rare guests who make, not just attend, 
a party. 

* ‘ Girls, isn’t this lovely! How sweet you all 
look! I’m so glad to get here—I didn’t think 
it would ever get to be three o ’clock. ’ ’ 

“There’s been a telegram waiting here for 
you some time, Cecily,” said Priscilla, taking 
the top one from the pile, “but I didn’t send 
it up to your house because I knew you were 
coming before long.” 

“A telegram!” Cecily looked sincerely 
astonished, much to the secret amusement of 
the company. “Will you excuse me if I open 
it!” 

“Please do,” urged her hostess politely. 

Cecily did so, read it, and joined heartily in 
the outbreak of laughter which greeted her as 
she raised her face. 

“It says: 

4 GO SOUTHWEST CORNER LIVING- 
ROOM LOOK UNDER NORTHERN PILE 
PAPERS ON DESK FOLLOW DIREC- 





76 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


TIONS. PRIZE AWAITS YOU.’ Priscilla, 
is a map furnished ?” 

“No, you must do this all alone, and so must 
all of us,” answered Priscilla firmly, distrib¬ 
uting the rest of the pile of telegrams, which 
were addressed to the respective girls. “Now, 
here is mine: 

'GO TO ATTIC LOOK INSIDE BROWN 
STEAMER TRUNK UNDER PASTEBOARD 
BOX THEN GO CELLAR LOOK ON THIRD 
STEP FROM BOTTOM. FIND PRIZE.’ 

Mercy, what a trip!” 

“It serves you right!” declared Cecily. 
“Where are the rest of you going?” 

Almost every corner of The Log Cabin, it 
seemed, was to be visited. Virginia was di¬ 
rected to go to the kitchen and climb into the 
woodbox, and Joyce to repair to the library 
and read the article on “Egyptology” in the 
encyclopedia. Dorothy’s telegram was perhaps 
the most perplexing: 

“SIT ON PIANO-STOOL AND PLAY 
PIANO FOR PRIZE.” 

“I can’t play anything but the C major 
scale,” declared the honest but unmusical re- 
eipient of this message. “I guess this is for 
Helena, not me.” 

“All right, do take mine,” offered Helena 
eagerly, offering a yellow slip which read: 




A PARTY FOR CECILY 


77 


“CLIMB TO TOP SHELF PANTRY LOOK 
UNDER EACH PIECE OF CHINA. FIND 
PRIZE.” 

Priscilla interposed sternly. 

“No, girls, you mustn’t change messages! 
There aren’t any mix-ups in this delivery.” 

There was nothing to do but start off in quest 
of a prize. Cecily, spurred by this brilliant 
prospect, finally found the northern end of the 
desk in the living-room, Joyce the “Ed—Eg” 
volume of the encyclopedia. Helena’s plump 
form mounted a ladder, and Dorothy boldly 
plunged into her scale with both hands. 

In each case the result was the same. Under 
the pile of papers, on the piano keys, in the 
wood-box, was a tiny paper arrow marked: 

“FOLLOW THE TRAIL.” 

For each girl, the arrow was of a different color. 
Not far from it, in the direction it pointed, ap¬ 
peared a similar arrow, lying on some article 
of furniture, pinned on the wall, stuck in a book. 
On and on and on went the rainbow arrows, 
through the house, and on and on and on went 
the travelers. In many places, trails crossed,, 
and at the crossroads the follower of the purple 
trail could exchange greetings with the follow¬ 
ers of the red and the green trails. Just as 
everybody was almost ready to proclaim her- 





78 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


self “lost,” all the trails suddenly wound up 
in the living-room. 

There, hidden under sofa-cushions, behind 
the clock, under the table, were the “prizes.” 
Shouts of exultation first greeted them, and 
these were quickly turned into roars of merri¬ 
ment, even from the recipients. All the trophies 
were trinkets in the form of lockets, mounted 
on ribbons, and each guest was obliged to don 
hers at once. Cecily drew an emery bag made 
like a Scotch thistle, Muriel a megaphone, Hel¬ 
ena a looking-glass, and Virginia an appro¬ 
priate miniature life-preserver. Aline found a 
small gold circle which she thought must be a 
wedding-ring until someone explained that it 
was a halo. Joyce, the youngest of the girls, 
got a rattle, which was declared extremely in¬ 
appropriate to her in all other respects, Pris¬ 
cilla an engagement-book, and Dorothy an al¬ 
phabet of athletic letters to adorn her sweater, 
while Evelyn received a large envelope labeled 
“Contribution,” and Rose a neat circle of tin 
marked “Antique medal for Old Landmark Mu¬ 
seum—Struck by Leif Ericsson on his arrival 
in North America, 1000 A. D.” 

“Now, girls,” cried Priscilla, when it was 
unanimously agreed that such delightful sou¬ 
venirs were well worth a long search,‘ ‘ sit down, 
and I’ll be back in just a minute.” 

She flashed out of the room, and in less than 
a minute was back again, her arms full of rolls 




A PARTY FOR CECILY 


79 


of paper, her hands clasping apparently innu¬ 
merable scissors and papers of pins. The 
paper proved to consist of one huge roll of the 
brown wrapping variety, and a dozen rolls of 
new tissue paper of every shade in the rain¬ 
bow. These Priscilla spread attractively forth 
on the big center-table of the living-room, while 
Helena helped her in distributing a pair of 
scissors and a paper of pins to each guest. 

“What are we going to do, sew dresses?” 
asked Dorothy dismally, able to think of noth¬ 
ing but paper patterns, and lacking any high 
incentive to needlework such as had existed on 
the previous afternoon. 

“No,” answered Priscilla, “we’re going to 
make hats and trim them. Use the brown paper 
for foundations, girls, and the tissue for trim¬ 
mings. Help yourselves—no one will restrain 
or criticize your art or color-schemes here. You 
have fifteen minutes to work in, and then the 
best hat will be decided by vote, and the mil¬ 
liner will get a prize.” 

“Another prize? After all the lovely ones 
we have?” asked Evelyn teasingly. 

i 6 This will be a real prize .’ 1 

‘ ‘ Then let ’a all work hard, girls, ’ ’ urged Ce¬ 
cily, seizing a sheet of brown paper. “I do 
want that prize so badly!” 

There are comparatively few people who can 
make hats easily, or, indeed at all, as was very 
soon quite evident, much to the girls ’ surprise. 



80 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


Helena, as was to be expected, got along with 
comparative ease in shaping a stylish blue tur¬ 
ban with a long tassel of the same shade hang¬ 
ing from the right side, and Joyce made up in 
boundless determination and industry what she 
lacked in skill. She spread a large sheet of 
brown paper on the floor and moved around it 
on her knees, cutting out a huge circle. Out of 
the middle of this she cut a small circle, man¬ 
aged to achieve a crown pinned in with much 
pricking of fingers, and then trimmed her crea¬ 
tion with a green tissue-paper willow plume 
fully a yard long. 

‘*There! That’s just the sort of hat I’ve 
always wanted!” she sighed, satisfied at last. 

Poor Cecily was not to have her wish for the 
prize gratified. Four minutes before time was 
up found her with nothing accomplished what¬ 
ever. 

“Here, this won’t do!” she declared sternly. 
“Priscilla, you didn’t make any restrictions on 
the kind of hat, so I’m going to be entirely 
original! ’ ’ 

She snatched a sheet of yellow tissue paper, 
cut it into a large square, and quickly pinned 
a neat border of narrow purple strips all the 
way around it. She then folded it into a tri¬ 
angle, and tied it over her hair with excellent 
effect. 

“This is an immigrant girl’s hat,” she ex- 



A PARTY FOR CECILY 


81 


plained, “always becoming and always in 
style!” 

Clever as Cecily’s ruse was, it remained for 
Aline to give the big surprise. Aline, who was 
always longing for something romantic to do, 
suddenly concentrated her attention on the task 
before her, and turned out an astonishingly 
pretty brown tricorne trimmed with little flat 
pink roses, which outshone everyone else’s ef¬ 
forts, and was unanimously pronounced to be 
the most worthy of the “real” prize. This 
proved, very appropriately, to be a charming 
boudoir cap of net and lace, with pink bows, and 
Aline was extremely happy over winning it. 

“This is a vacation worth while for you, 
Aline, isn’t it?” cried Cecily admiringly. 
“Though you have to work hard, just like me. 
How do I? Why, I entertain all my relatives 
every summer, and if any of you girls ever own 
a house in the country you’ll do the same. Of 
course I love them, and by the way, I have two 
more, cousins, coming next week. Oh, they’re 
old, and married, and not exciting. Honestly, 
though, I do take my real vacation in winter!” 

“Don’t you like it in this lovely place!” de¬ 
manded Virginia. 

Cecily laughed, to Priscilla’s relief. 

“Yes, Jinny, I love it, but you can get tired 
of anything, you know. ’ ’ 

“Of course,” said Priscilla, “you must like 




82 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


a change sometimes, like when you go down to 
New York in the winter.” 

To her amazement, this perfectly common¬ 
place remark seemed to cause Cecily great dis¬ 
tress. She gazed at Priscilla helplessly, forgot 
what she had been about to say, and fumbled 
with her ring. Her embarrassment passed 
quickly, however, and to Priscilla’s relief, the 
other girls, busy putting on their hats to wear 
the rest of the afternoon, did not appear to 
have noticed it. 

“Girls,” cried Priscilla quickly, “we must all 
be awfully hungry! Let’s go to the dining-room 
and just eat. Nothing more to do but that!” 

“How nice!” cried Cecily, recovering herself 
and taking Priscilla’s arm affectionately. “I 
never was very fond of ‘working for my 
victuals,’ as an old gardener of father’s used 
to say. I mean that it’s hard, in the face of 
starvation, to guess riddles and read poems on 
place-cards, as you often have to at parties!” 

No such obstacles prevented the full enjoy¬ 
ment of the many dainty sandwiches, iced cakes 
and candies, and the delicious fruit lemonade 
Priscilla had provided for her guests. In a few 
minutes the light from the pink-shaded 
candlesticks shone on the merriest group of 
ten girls that Highland Pass had probably ever 
seen in its hundred and seventy years of settle¬ 
ment. Everyone had had a good time, every¬ 
one was light-hearted, and Priscilla exchanged 



A PARTY FOR CECILY 


83 


glances of satisfaction with Helena over the 
success of her entertainment. 

“Good gracious!" cried Cecily at last, paus¬ 
ing in her narration of how she had shown 
people the Ramapo country from Torne Top 
eighty-two times, and was thinking of qualify¬ 
ing for a guide's license. “Priscilla, you must 
think I intend to stay all night! I Ve been here 
for hours and hours, and I really must go 
immediately." 

“Oh, no!" begged Priscilla, seconded by all 
her friends. 

“Yes, truly," repeated Cecily. “I've had 
the best time I had all summer, Priscilla dear! 
It's been a perfectly lovely, brilliant party and 
I'm very much flattered to have been your 
guest." 

“I'll go to the gate with you," offered Pris¬ 
cilla, as Cecily collected her thistle and her 
“hat," as souvenirs, and put them with her 
candy-bag, and then made her adieux to the 
other guests. 

“Now don't forget," urged the older girl, as 
the two sped down the garden walk, “you're 
to bring all the girls up to my house on the 
twenty-sixth. I'm certainly looking forward to 
seeing you, and we'll have a lot of fun. Why, 
there's Bill Bailey waiting in the road, sitting 
in the Ford that belongs to the works!" 

“Is he going to take you home?" 





84 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


‘ * I don’t think so. Bill! Are you waiting for 
me?” 

“Yes, Miss Cecily!” Bill leaped to attention 
on the roadside, and snatched his hat from his 
flaming locks. “Your father sent me, but he 
said not to disturb you till you came out.” 

“Don’t disturb me now either, please, Bill!” 

Bill grinned appreciatively at Cecily’s joke. 

“Mr. Graham just says, will you please to 
drive over to Snowdon and bring him home. 
The men are all very busy, or he wouldn’t have 
sent for you. I have to go right back to do 
some welding at the foundry.” 

“I suppose that inter-town ’bus that runs 
through Snowdon and Brockway, which father 
always comes home in, has broken down 
again,” explained Cecily to Priscilla. “Bill!” 

“Yes, Miss Cecily?” 

“Whereabouts on the road did the bus break 
down this time?” 

Bill stared. 

“I hadn’t heard it broke down. Is that so?” 

“Didn’t it? Then why does father want the 
car?” 

A pale face and freckles, especially when de¬ 
prived of a customary broad grin, can express 
unlimited pathos. Priscilla felt something ap¬ 
palling impended. Bill’s hair seemed to flame 
like a danger-signal, and Bill stammered in re¬ 
plying. 

» “The—the committee from the State Dairy 




A PARTY FOR CECILY 


85 


Inspection Board get aboard the bus at Snow¬ 
don, and the—the farm owners meet ’em 
there,’’ he announced. Priscilla instantly un¬ 
derstood this to mean that Grahams and Per- 
rhyns would not meet even in a public convey¬ 
ance, yet, overwhelmed as she was with pity 
for Cecily, she could not help admiring Bill 
Bailey’s tact in choosing his words, and his 
real consideration for Cecily, to whom, it was 
easy to see, he was devoted. Poor Cecily, pur¬ 
sued even to parties by the Valley feud! 

“Good-by, then, dear Priscilla.” Cecily 
turned suddenly to her hostess with a firm 
pride, as if nothing whatever had happened 
to mar the end of her visit. * i It’s been a lovely 
afternoon—don’t forget the twenty-sixth!” 

She sprang to the wheel of the car, and 
turned it toward Snowdon. 





CHAPTER VII 


WEST point: the key 


THE LOG CABIN CONSTELLATION 
EXTRA! EXTRA! EXTRA! 

! ! ! SPECIAL EXTRA EDITION l 1 ! 


In honor of the fifteenth 
birthday of Miss Priscilla 
Cleveland, the beautiful and 
accomplished president of the 
Linger-Not Club, the Gover¬ 
nor of the State has pro¬ 
claimed a legal holiday to¬ 
day, September 21. 

There will therefore be no 
regular edition of THE CON¬ 
STELLATION. The editor is 
much too law-abiding to work 
• # # 


if the Governor says not to. 

However, THE CONSTEL¬ 
LATION embraces the oppor¬ 
tunity of wishing Miss P. C. 
many, many very happy re¬ 
turns of the day! 

Also, the editor announces 
that all the recent contri¬ 
butions will be published 
shortly in a surpassingly mag¬ 
nificent 

comic supplement! 

# * # ♦ 


“Rose, why on earth doesn’t Priscilla 
come?” Dorothy peered anxiously down the 
road, at a dust-cloud far off in the direction of 
Snowdon. 

“She can’t make up her mind which hand¬ 
kerchief to carry, she loves them all so much I 
Helena told her to take one that matched her 
dress, so then she thought of taking one that 
contrasted with it! Not contrariness, of course, 
86 


WEST POINT: THE KEY 


87 


just all sides of the question. Priscilla always 
thinks of everything. ’ 9 

Dorothy, her shining black hair and rosy 
face set off to unusual advantage by a big red 
silk square worn with her middy blouse, began 
to dance impatiently up and down the road. 
Choosing handkerchiefs would never have de¬ 
tained her long, with an excursion to West 
Point in prospect! She glanced anxiously to¬ 
ward Snowdon again. The dust-cloud was 
larger, and growing. 

“Kose, call the girls! I’ll stand in the middle 
of the road and wave my necktie ! 9 9 

No such effort was necessary, however, to 
make the bus driver wait for ten passengers. 
This excursion to West Point, with luncheon at 
the hotel, was Priscilla’s birthday treat from 
her father. The bus flashed through the woods, 
then through little villages lying sleepily in the 
sun, then through farming-land, and finally 
down the steep main street of a hilly river-port 
to the pier and the boat to West Point. 

Very soon came the famous Highlands, at 
first low rocky hills with a sparse growth of 
forest, gradually growing higher and higher 
and wilder and more solitary. Houses became 
few, towns almost disappeared, as the cliffs 
grew more and more precipitous, enclosing the 
blue river and guarding it like stern sentinels. 
All over the ship there gradually fell a sort of 
hush, as the inescapable spell of the mysterious 




88 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


river and its lonely mountains worked its will 
on the travelers in the way it has done through 
all its history. At last out of the faint blue mist 
loomed the towering gray battlements of the 
United States Military Academy buildings, 
looking like a fortress rising stately and mag¬ 
nificent from the noble river. 

“Do you remember,’’ asked Dorothy sud¬ 
denly, “how that day we were on Bald Torne, 
Keith Perrhyn said that in the Revolution West 
Point was the Gibraltar of the Hudson? It 
looks like that to-day, too . 9 9 

“It’s just wonderful here,” said Priscilla 
dreamily, as the party mounted the fine sloping 
road and the wide flight of steps leading up to 
the Government reservation on the hill. “Did 
you ever see anything so impressive as all these 
gray buildings surrounding this great square 
lawn? Doesn’t it make you feel awfully proud 
and excited?” 

“I don’t believe I can eat anything,” de¬ 
clared Dorothy, solemnly shaking her black 
bobbed head. 

There was a suppressed chuckle behind the 
two girls, who were walking at the rear of the 
party. They glanced around, and saw behind 
them an old sergeant in khaki, wheeling some 
supplies along on a hand-truck. His eyes were 
fixed decorously on the horizon, but he had 
evidently heard and enjoyed Dorothy’s remark. 

As the party walked on, it suddenly became 




WEST POINT: THE KEY 


89 


plain that Dorothy’s scruples about eating in 
the midst of so much historic splendor were 
not generally shared at West Point. A sharp, 
clear bugle-note pierced the air, and forth from 
the quaint old gray barracks on the south side 
of the Plains hurried rank after rank of gal¬ 
lant-looking cadets in the blue-gray, whose 
faces bore the stem, unmistakable expression 
of the hungry boy. As the bugle sounded on, 
they marched briskly along past a line of in¬ 
specting officers in khaki, then turned a comer 
and wheeled in the direction of the Mess Hall. 

“Well, Dorothy, what about luncheon now?” 
laughed Priscilla. 

“All right, so long as it’s the custom here,” 
answered Dorothy broad-mindedly. There was 
a second chuckle from the rear as the old ser¬ 
geant steered his hand-truck up the pathway 
leading to one of the gray buildings. 

It was very quiet all over the reservation as 
the girls left the hotel after luncheon. The 
cadets were attending their afternoon classes, 
and hardly a soul was to be seen on the Plains 
or in the streets. It seemed a perfect time to 
go exploring romantic West Point at will. 

Dorothy was in fine form, thanks partly, no 
doubt, to her luncheon, but also because she 
was the natural leader of the crowd on an ex¬ 
ploring expedition. She glanced around in all 
directions, noted all advantages, and made a 




90 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


quick, wise decision, as all good explorers must 
be able to do. 

“Girls, let’s go down to this point that runs 
out into the river on the right. It’s all covered 
with interesting-looking old cannon, and we can 
see the Hudson splendidly, and there are beau¬ 
tiful walks among the trees.” 

This proved an excellent proposal. Follow¬ 
ing Dorothy and Priscilla, the girls strolled 
through the grove, examining the trophies 
strewn around them. Single-bore cannon, once 
so formidable and now only curious, captured 
German guns of the World War with camou¬ 
flage paint still bright on them, were especially 
interesting seen in these surroundings. Here 
lay a great torpedo captured from a Spanish 
warship in 1898, nearby, a mortar brought from 
Mexico half a century previous. The High¬ 
lands were higher here than at any other point, 
and several islands scattered along the course 
of the Hudson added to the beauty of the ma¬ 
jestic stream. In fact, such a fascinating spot 
was Trophy Point that the whole afternoon 
could have been spent there profitably. But 
with Dorothy in the lead, something exciting as 
well as profitable was bound to happen. 

It did, almost immediately, and was an¬ 
nounced by a shriek from the leader, piercing 
and imperative: 

“Girls, girls! Come here! Come here! 
Quick!” 



WEST POINT: THE KEY 


91 


Envisaging all sorts of disasters, everyone 
rushed at top speed to the point where Dorothy 
stood wildly beckoning, a circular walk sur¬ 
rounded by four particularly tine tall trees, 
almost at the edge of the water. Dorothy’s 
face shone with delight, so did Priscilla’s. 

“Girls, we’ve found the chain, the old chain 
that went across the Hudson! I thought it was 
in some historic museum, of course, and here 
it is right out in this lovely grove. We walked 
right into it!” cried Dorothy. 

“Look, sixteen links! Isn’t it perfectly won¬ 
derful, and isn’t it arranged perfectly wonder¬ 
fully?” Priscilla’s ecstasies quite impover¬ 
ished her vocabulary. 

In the midst of the circular walk, supported 
on low pillars arranged in a circle, the sixteen 
links of the historic trophy, identified by an in¬ 
scription, rested on the very scene of their war 
service. To the nine girls who knew the history 
of that chain, what determination and skill and 
courage and speed had gone into every blow of 
the hammer, what once firm friendship, too, had 
been forged with the chain, the splendid relic 
had a deep significance. They crowded around 
it in eager silence. 

“Is anything the matter? Didn’t someone 
call out?” 

A friendly voice broke the silence. Close be¬ 
side the group stood the old sergeant who had 




92 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


directed them to the hotel before luncheon. 
Dorothy spoke up at once: 

“Oh, sergeant, I’m sorry if I frightened 
you!” 

The sergeant did not chuckle this time, but 
laughed aloud. 

“I don't get frightened quite that easy, miss! 
I hope nothing was the matter?” 

“No, everything is perfectly lovely,” Doro¬ 
thy assured him. “I'm just so glad to see the 
chain I don't know what to do! You see, I know 
the people who made it! ” 

“We are staying in the Ramapos, very near 
the mine where the chain was made. That's 
why we are all so interested in it,” explained 
Mrs. Cleveland, laughing uncontrollably her¬ 
self with the girls over Dorothy's remarkable 
statement and the poor sergeant's rather nat¬ 
ural stupefaction. 

“Is that so? Then no wonder you had a 
pleasant surprise! I suppose you all know 
that the chain was stretched right up there 
across the river?” the soldier pointed to a 
wooded strip of land lying out in the stream 
just above West Point. “That's Constitution 
Island.'' 

“They chose that point to defend because 
the river is so narrow there. Isn't that the 
reason?” asked Rose. 

“It's one reason,” answered the sergeant, 
“but there's a still more important one. Did 




WEST POINT: THE KEY 


93 


you come up the river this morning? You did? 
Then you know that just below West Point are 
two very sharp turns in the stream, one west 
and one south. You see, in Revolutionary days 
the sailing-ships coming up from New York 
harbor would have had to tack squarely twice 
on account of those turns, and so lose nearly 
all their speed. Now, their only possible chance 
of passing the chain would have been to break 
it by ramming it at full speed, so this point was 
the ideal position for it.” 

“How very ingenious!” said Mrs. Cleveland. 
“Sergeant, do you know how they fastened the 
chain across the river?” 

“Yes, ma’am, it was attached to the rocks on 
each shore, and buoyed up in the water with 
large logs, about sixteen feet long, which were 
pointed at the lower end to break the current. 
This support protected it from the action and 
violence of the water. ’ ’ 

“They just thought of everything!” cried 
Dorothy admiringly. 

“That chain,” declared the sergeant sol¬ 
emnly, “represents a real American piece of 
nerve from start to finish. They brought it 
over to the river one link at a time, on mule- 
wagons, to New Windsor, a town a short way 
above here, and then, as each link was fetched 

over, they forged them together-” 

“Oh!” Dorothy’s eyes were wide with sur- 




94 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


prise. “They melted the links and put them 
together again?” 

“Sure. They couldn’t have brought a hun¬ 
dred and eighty-six tons of iron over here 
whole, could they?” asked the sergeant with a 
twinkle in his eye. “Well, then they put the 
chain on the logs, and floated it down the river 
to this point. And here some of it is to-day!” 

“Just think! Not rusted—and not broken— 
and look! You can still see the places where 
the hammer beat it, I declare! ’ ’ Dorothy bent 
close to the chain, and ran her hand thought¬ 
fully along the rough, hand-beaten surface, 
covered with hundreds of tiny dents. “Was 
there ever anything so interesting, especially 
since the sergeant gave us such a nice lecture 
about it! ” 

“I guess that’s all I know,” said the flattered 
sergeant modestly, greatly pleased with his ap¬ 
preciative audience, “except that Benedict 
Arnold tried his best to spoil the chain by 
taking away some of the logs that held it out 
of the water. But maybe you all know that.” 

“Oh, I remember! He tried to surrender 
West Point,” cried Dorothy eagerly. “He was 
commander here, and he had some time before 
been rebuked for misconduct, and he was so 
proud he couldn’t stand being corrected. He 
wasn’t honest enough to say he’d been wrong. 
Think of it!” 

“Well, I guess that’s the way some people 




WEST POINT: THE KEY 


95 


are,” said the sergeant, who doubtless had had 
a considerable experience . 1 ‘Well, it would have 
been bad if he had succeeded, for West Point 
was the key to the whole campaign. But of 
course Washington was in command, and he 
was never the man to lose heart, or to lose his 
head, for that matter, was he?” 

“No, indeed! And he put a Chain on the 
Key, so he wouldn’t lose that, either!” cried 
Dorothy, unusually inspired. 

The friendly sergeant took his departure in 
a perfectly uncontrollable outburst of chuckles, 
and it was agreed that Dorothy’s leadership 
in exploring was of an exceptionally high qual¬ 
ity. So she exercised it the rest of the after¬ 
noon, and the girls found Kosciusko’s Garden, 
the nook where the great Polish engineer had 
loved to rest and study by the river-bank, and 
the wonderful riding-academy where the cadets 
were exercising with extraordinary skill, the 
beautiful cadet chapel on the summit of the 
reservation, and Memorial Hall, where the 
memories of all brave West Point graduates 
are reverently preserved, by bronze tablets, 
battle-flags and trophies. 

Even Dorothy’s zeal for sight-seeing seemed 
satisfied when the birthday guests climbed 
again into the bus at the dock. 

“Dorothy,” said Priscilla anxiously, “are 
you awfully tired?” 

“Not a bit, thank you.” 




96 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“But you haven’t spoken once, do you know 
it, since we left West Point.” 

“That,” said Dorothy solemnly, “is because 
West Point has made me thoughtful. I am 
thinking. Do not disturb me, Priscilla!” 

“Won’t you tell me what you are thinking 
about?” 

“Yes,” answered Dorothy decisively. “I 
will—sometime!” 




CHAPTER VIII 


THROUGH THE PASS 


HE scene had been the lawn in front of 



The Log Cabin, with the morning sun 


peeping over the cliff of Highland Pass 
on the other side of the rushing Ramapo. The 
personages had been two people out for a brief 
stroll before train-time. 

4 ‘Father dear!” Priscilla had begun insin¬ 
uatingly. 

‘ ‘ Daughter dear ! 9 9 

“We all had such a lovely time at West 
Point the other day-” 

“What, even our little friend Virginia f 1 
understand not one single mishap of any kind 
brightened the day for her.” 

“Jinny is simply growing wings, that’s a 
fact. It’s really pathetic. And Muriel is even 

worse-” , , , ,. 

“She seems to have sprung a leak, doesn t 
she! Can’t stop talking about how lovely the 


97 



98 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


luncheon was and how lovely the sergeant was 

and how lovely the cannon were-” 

“It's most unnatural, father. Perhaps the 
trip was too exciting, after all.” 

‘ i And what ails Dorothy ? Our young cyclone 
sits and dreams all day.’ 9 
“Dorothy is trying to solve a great moral 
and intellectual problem, she says.” 

“Great Scott, Priscilla, well have to do 
something to restore your house party to its 
normal condition!” 

“Father, you’re so understanding! Now, 
you know to-morrow is Saturday?” 

“Yes, I understand that, so far.” 
i i So you don 9 t go into town. Don’t you think 
it would be nice if you would take us all on the 
Two-Day Hike, and we should stop overnight 
at the Haunted House? That would he so rest¬ 
ful ! Do you know, I believe we’ve all been do¬ 
ing too much, perhaps, and need a rest.” 

* i But I don’t know whether your mother- 9 9 

“Mother says she will go if I ask you, and 

you consent. And I have asked you, and-” 

Priscilla’s voice rose to a shriek of joy as she 
caught sight of the smile on her father’s face— 
“you’re going!” 

“You see, my dear daughter, I also under¬ 
stand your method of getting what you want! 
Well, it works. But do you really think tramp¬ 
ing twenty-five miles is a good way to get 
rested?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, being in the woods and sleeping in that 





THROUGH THE PASS 


99 


dear little inn and not meeting anybody for a 
while will be awfully restful!” Priscilla 
beamed, and dashed into the house to announce 
the glad tidings. 

The foregoing conversation was the reason, 
therefore, that the Linger-Nots were on the 
trail the bright Saturday afternoon following 
the West Point expedition. The Two-Day 
Hike was a favorite trip with Ramapo dwellers 
around Brockway. Leading through Highland 
Pass and the Ramapos to the Hudson High¬ 
lands and the river at their eastern boundary, 
it was both interesting and beautiful, difficult 
enough to be worth while, and yet not too hard 
to be discouraging. 

The long line of merry trampers flashed in 
and out of the birch and maple woods. The 
bright foliage was somewhat thinner than on 
the day when the girls had climbed the Bald 
Torne, and the blueberry and sassafras bushes 
that skirted the path were losing their leaves 
also. Here-and there, in a clearing in the 
woods, a glimpse of blue chicory or red winter- 
green berries put a touch of color into the rap¬ 
idly browning landscape. 

As was to be expected in such hilly country, 
the trail frequently led over the crest of a 
mountain and then dropped down into a valley, 
but every difficulty brought a reward when it 
was solved. The mountains had their views, the 
valleys their streams, with the path often con- 




100 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


tinuing along the bank for some distance, and 
sometimes skirting a swamp where late flowers 
still blossomed. Everywhere, however, the 
trail was easy to follow, for the trees had been 
carefully blazed, and cairns of stones bearing 
markers showed the way in the clearings. 

But even an easy trail finally tires young 
hikers, especially when they are carrying ruck¬ 
sacks full of eatables for luncheon the follow¬ 
ing day. In a sheltered spot in one of the val¬ 
leys, Mr. Cleveland called a short halt for a 
rest. 

“No use wearing ourselves out,” he declared. 
“Supper won’t be ready at the inn until five- 
thirty, anyway. It’s only three now. ’ ’ 

“Isn’t it wonderful to have an inn right in 
the middle of the woods! Is it like a regular 
hotel, Priscilla?” asked Evelyn. 

“Not precisely. Nobody stays there any 
time, for it is really intended to accommodate 
hikers,” answered Priscilla. “You see, it’s 
situated at a point in the mountains where once 
there was a mining village, though that’s gone 
now. The people who run the inn, Mr. and 
Mrs. Wilkens, who are rather elderly, once 
owned some property in the village. When 
walking clubs came so much into fashion, they 
decided to make the property pay, because 
about a dozen different trails pass through the 
mountains right near it. So a few years ago 
they built this nice little inn-” 




THROUGH THE PASS 


101 


“But you said it was haunted!” cried Vir¬ 
ginia. “How can it be haunted if it’s only a 
few years old?” 

“Priscilla Cleveland, do you mean to say 
you’re making us walk twenty-five miles on 
false pretences?” demanded Rose. “Come 
now, tell us there’s a real ghost—and a nice, 
ghastly ghost, too!—if you want to retain our 
confidence.” 

“There is a ghost with all the very best char¬ 
acteristics of first-rate spooks,” responded 
Priscilla, solemnly defending the country’s 
traditions. 

1 i Tell us about it, ’ ’ requested Evelyn. 

“It goes back to the time of the village, when 
there was on the site of the inn a house where 
a very loving couple lived. One day the hus¬ 
band disappeared—never returned home. His 
wife was broken-hearted, and put a candle in 
the window every night to guide him home in 
case he came in the dark, for it’s very easy to 
get lost in these hilly woods if you miss the 
trail. She said she had dreamed that until the 
candle went out, he would be alive. 

“Well, finally, after about ten years, the 
candle did go out one night. Of course all her 
neighbors were very sorry for the poor widow. 
But very soon afterwards, she got married 
again to a rich man, and all her troubles were 
over—or, at least, she thought so.” 

Priscilla said the last words in a tone full of 





102 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


dark meaning, and Virginia, much impressed, 
whispered: 

“Why weren’t they really over?” 

“Because,” continued Priscilla, lowering her 
voice, “one night all the hoards in the house 
started to creak, and they creaked till morning. 
The next night, it rained all around the house 
when the moon was shining. And the next, the 
woman saw a great big white Thing walking on 
the pathway up to the house. Three times, 
these three events rotated regularly every three 
days!” 

“Wonderful! One could hardly expect spir¬ 
its to be so systematic,” observed Mrs. Cleve¬ 
land mildly. 

“Well, anyhow, she couldn’t stand it any 
longer, and moved away,” concluded Priscilla, 
“and after she had gone, a little boy in the vil¬ 
lage told how he had been going past her house 
one night, late, and he had seen her open the 
window herself, and let the draught blow out 
the candle! And people claim that the site of 
her house, where the inn is now, is still 
haunted. ’ ’ 

A spirited debate followed this harrowing 
narrative, Evelyn maintaining that the candle’s 
blowing out killed the husband, Helena that he 
was dead anyhow and haunted his wife out of 
spite because she remarried, Aline that the mis¬ 
guided lady of the tale had been haunted solely 
because she was mean, and that it would have 





THROUGH THE PASS 


103 


served her right if her husband had turned up 
later and explained that he had never been 
dead. Mr. Cleveland finally had to close the 
discussion with a few general remarks on the 
value of clear consciences, which never haunted 
anybody, and a proposal that the party should 
move on, as the sun was dropping. 

So on the trampers moved briskly because 
the dropping sun brought a late afternoon 
crispness to the air. Before long the path 
grew very hilly, then the trail dropped, and 
bridged a gap between two hills. As they 
passed through the gap, suddenly another trail 
crossed theirs, deep worn and curiously wide 
for a woodland path. It stretched to the north¬ 
east, and disappeared around the foot of a hill. 

“That’s the Old Continental Road,” said Mr. 
Cleveland, pausing a moment, “used by the 
patriot armies for their troops and supplies.” 

How many were the surprises hidden in the 
mysterious Ramapos! What had the old road 
seen? Had General Washington passed this 
way? Had the great chain, perhaps, been borne 
along this thoroughfare, link by link, towards 
its position before the American Gibraltar? 
Fancies freely flew back and forth as the line 
marched forward again. More than one of the 
girls no doubt marveled to see how closely the 
history of the past and present seemed to be 
interwoven all through Highland Pass. 

Again, before long, the line was brought to 





104 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


a halt, this time by Dorothy, who was in the 
lead. 

“What’s this?” she asked perplexedly. 
“Shall we go on?” 

She pointed out a long white string, which 
was stretched at right angles over the path in 
front of her. It could not have been carried 
accidentally to its position, that was clear, for 
at intervals it was loosely knotted to several 
trees. 

“Oh, yes, go on,” said Priscilla. “Trail- 
makers are working here, that’s all. We’ll 
duck under the string, so as not to disturb 
it-” 

“Hello!” cried a familiar voice, and the next 
instant, with a loud rustling of underbrush, 
Keith Perrhyn pushed out of the woods on one 
side of the trail. 

“So we meet again, and, as usual, in the 
woods!” he cried jovially. “Why, how do you 
do, Mrs. Cleveland? I didn’t see you and Mr. 
Cleveland before—I just heard the girls’ 
voices. Off for the day, are you?” 

“Off for two days,” corrected Priscilla. 
“We’re doing the Two-Day Hike, and on your 
recommendation. ’ ’ 

“Well, I hope you won’t blame me if you 
forgot the salt for the hard-boiled eggs,” said 
Keith anxiously. “Miss Virginia, have you 
had any adventures lately?” 

“I nearly chopped the top of my finger off in 



THROUGH THE PASS 


105 


the meat-chopper, hut it’s growing on again,’’ 
answered Virginia somewhat dejectedly. “Are 
you camping up here to-night, instead of on 
Bald Torne?” 

“No, another fellow and I are taking this 
Saturday afternoon off to start a new trail 
over to Sterling. There isn’t any really good 
path through the woods there. We belong to 
a tramping club that has made a great many 
trails in this section,” explained Keith. “You 
see, first we mark out this route with string, 
temporarily. Then we go over it—a number 
of us do that together—and then we find 
crooked places we can straighten or special 
spots that give fine views, and so we make 
changes and decide what the permanent route 
is to be.” 

“That sounds like a fine plan,” said Mr. 
Cleveland. 

“Oh, but that isn’t all! Making a trail’s a 
lot of work. Next, the whole club goes over the 
route with hatchets, and cuts out the bushes, 
but not the good trees or the saplings, and that 
way we clear out the path. Then we make 
blazes, and paint guiding arrows, and put up 
cairns of stones in places where there aren’t 
any large trees, and then-” 

“Mercy! What next?” cried Dorothy. 

1 * Oh, then we’ve finished! ’ ’ 

“Hey, Keith! Whoo-hoo!” rang out a cry 



106 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


from the woods, just as Keith concluded his 
explanation. 

“Here! Over on Two-Day Trail!” called 
back Keith. “Old Bill must think I'm lost,” 
he added, “and no wonder. He was further 
back in the woods than I, and couldn’t have 
heard you.” 

Almost instantly a loud crackling of brush 
announced a new arrival, and the cheerful 
countenance of Bill Bailey was thrust through 
the bushes. The multitude of travelers before 
him, though a surprise, did not disconcert the 
fortunate possessor of Bill’s social disposition. 
To each and all he grinned a cordial welcome. 

“How do you do, Bill? We hear you’ve a 
lot of work ahead of you here,” said Priscilla 
pleasantly. 

“That’s all right. Work never scares me!” 
announced Bill imperturbably. 

“Will you listen to the way some people 
brag!” ejaculated Keith. “By the way, 
though, perhaps we’ll meet at supper. “You 
must be going to stay overnight at the H—hik¬ 
ers’ shelter?” 

“Haunted House! Yes,” said Dorothy teas- 
ingly. “We’re going to sit up for the ghost.” 

“Bill and I are going to be there, and to sit 
up, too, but not for any ghost. We’re on our 
way over to spend the week-end at the Lake 
Nanaukee camp, and we start from the— hik- 




THROUGH THE PASS 


107 


ers* shelter —at one o’clock this morning, so as 
to do the Lake trail by moonlight. ’’ 

“What fun! Boys do have all the advan¬ 
tages!” sighed Priscilla. “I don’t believe you 
like this hike any more, do you, girls? Well, 
you can tell all our brothers you met us, and in 
the meantime we’ll see you later.” 

So once more the party proceeded, and an 
hour more brought them to the little forest inn, 
which, set on top of a gentle slope, could be 
seen as a goal for some time before it was 
finally reached. It was built like a long log 
camp, with the little rooms arranged in a row, 
one after another, and all opening on a porch 
which served for a communication hall. Each 
of the little rooms had all the comforts that a 
weary tramper could wish, and the big lobby 
into which the main door opened was as bright 
and restful as possible. The polished floor 
shone, the big fire blazed, brass candlesticks on 
the mantel and brass bowls full of ferns on the 
window-sill glittered, and the walls glowed 
with the cheerful colors of numerous artistic 
posters that made a decoration full of charm 
and interest. 

It was here, after a hearty supper of ham 
and eggs and hot waffles and maple syrup in 
the rustic dining-room, a separate building, 
that all the Linger-Nots assembled, much re¬ 
freshed and ready for a lively evening. Keith 
and Bill Bailey soon joined the party in the 





108 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


lobby, having done full justice to the supper, 
and anxious for the time before one o’clock in 
the morning to pass quickly. 

“Let’s play dumb crambo,” suggested Hel¬ 
ena. “We might divide up and one party act 
and one guess, alternately.” 

“All right, you be one captain, and let Doro¬ 
thy be the other, ’ ’ agreed Priscilla. 1 * Go ahead 
and choose your sides.” 

Helena promptly chose Evelyn, who could be 
relied on to think of wonderful words to act, 
and Dorothy retaliated by seizing Virginia, 
who was considered a valuable asset because 
there was no dramatic difficulty she would not 
gladly attempt. Then Helena secured Rose’s 
experienced services, and Dorothy, with no 
mean eye to strategy, chose Bill. Helena’s list 
was completed with Aline, Mrs. Cleveland, and 
Keith, and Dorothy’s with Muriel, Priscilla, 
and Joyce. Both captains declared a truce 
long enough to arrange that Mr. Cleveland 
should play continuously on alternate sides, as 
the number of players was odd. 

Then Keith tossed up a quarter, and Helena’s 
side won the toss. Dorothy and her followers, 
therefore, retired to the piazza while Helena’s 
side chose a word, and were soon informed by 
a messenger that the word selected rhymed 
with “it.” 

This was certainly not a very promising clue, 




THROUGH THE PASS 


109 


for possible rhymes were extremely numerous. 
There was nothing to do but start in silently 
acting rhymes until the rhyming dictionary 
should be exhausted. So Dorothy’s side re¬ 
turned to the bright lobby, and staged a real¬ 
istic “fit” to begin with. This act was loudly 
applauded, but “fit” was not the right word. 

Out they went again for consultation and 
came back to “ sit ” on the floor, which was also 
wrong. They tried to ‘‘ flit , 9 9 they “ lit ” a lamp, 
they “bit” apples, they all “knit” most indus¬ 
triously, especially Bill, and all was in vain. 
Finally Dorothy proposed a baseball game, 
which was admirably played considering that 
there were only seven members on the team, 
and Dorothy’s great “hit” won loud cheers 
and the admission: “You’ve got it at last! The 
word’s ‘hit’!” 

“Now, we’ll go out,” said Helena, when the 
shrieks of laughter over this clever interpreta¬ 
tion of a really difficult word had died away. 
“I’ve thought of an awful sticker!” 

Her followers prepared to follow their cap¬ 
tain, when a sudden heavy knock came on the 
door of the inn. Keith was standing near it, 
and turned around. 

“I’ll go,” he said, and threw open the door. 

In the light, falling out on the dark piazza, 
appeared three indistinct figures. The fore¬ 
most advanced and entered the lobby. It was 
Cecily Graham. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE HAUNTED HOUSE 

O F the fourteen astounded persons in the 
lobby, thirteen stood paralyzed. Cecily 
and Keith stared at each other with a 
mutual truculence and scorn mingled with a 
curious, inexplicable anxiety. Everyone else 
stared at Cecily and Keith in a sort of mild 
panic which deprived them utterly of the power 
of speech or motion—everyone, except Bill 
Bailey. 

Bill took instant command of the appalling 
situation with an adroitness and firmness no 
one could have suspected would emanate from 
under that shock of red hair. In an emergency, 
it appeared, Bill ceased to be a comic character. 

“Why, Miss Cecily, are you out on a hike 
too? Mrs. Cleveland and all these young ladies 
will be glad to see you!’ ’ 

Cecily, swinging around to greet Mrs. Cleve¬ 
land, had to turn her back on Keith. Bill in¬ 
stantly passed behind Keith, seized the door¬ 
handle, and with a hasty whisper shut his 
no 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


111 


friend out on the piazza, at the same instant 
that Cecily’s two companions entered. 

“My dear Cecily!” cried Mrs. Cleveland. 
“This is a great surprise! You’re not taking 
the Two-Day Hike too, are you?” Neither Ce¬ 
cily nor her friends carried any packs. 

“Oh, no, we’re lost!” Cecily responded al¬ 
most with a wail, and seemed very much ex¬ 
cited. “These are my cousins, Mr. and Mrs. 
Hurd.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Hurd, a young couple whose 
very new and stylish clothes did not suit the 
air of depression which characterized them 
both, bowed solemnly to the company. 

“You’re not lost now,” said Mr. Cleveland 
soothingly. “Don’t you know where you are? 
This is the hikers’ shelter.” 

“Yes, I know now. But we’ve been wander¬ 
ing in the dark for over three hours.” 

“What happened, Miss Cecily?” asked Bill, 
in alarm. 

“We left home after luncheon to go and ex¬ 
plore the old Tamarack Swamp mine 
shaft-” 

“Thought it would be awfully interesting to 
see a mine shaft, you know,” interposed young 
Mr. Hurd helplessly. It was quite plain that 
he simply couldn’t help talking, but young Mrs. 
Hurd gave him a perfectly dreadful look, and 
he stopped very suddenly. 

“It was interesting, seeing all the old tunnels 




112 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


and cables and machinery.” Cecily spoke 
kindly, with a faint smile at the unfortunate 
Archie. “Then we went up the Tamarack 
Brook to watch the beavers working-” 

“Awfully interesting, to see the beav-” 

Young Mr. Hurd got no further. 

‘ ‘ Archibald ! 9 9 said young Mrs. Hurd. It was 
one word, but it sounded like several para¬ 
graphs. 

“—and I guess I should have started home 
sooner, for we wanted to stop and get some 
rose mallows at the swamp on our way back, 
and we saw such beautiful ones on the other 
side of the swamp from our trail that we had 
to get them and kept going further and further 
off. Then all of a sudden it got awfully dark, 
the way it does in the woods, you know, and in 
spite of knowing the country well I couldn’t 
find the trail home in the dark. So we wan¬ 
dered around a long time, and had to be very 
careful, too, for we were near the old mine and 
we might easily have fallen into the shaft.” 

“You’re a long way from the Tamarack 
Swamp trail,” said Bill. “How’d you happen 
to get to the shelter?” 

“We finally saw the light on the hill. It’s a 
good thing we did when we did, too, for the 
moon will be up in about an hour, and it’s full 
moon to-night, and I don’t believe we’d have 
noticed the little lantern on the inn if it had 
been bright moonlight.” 




THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


113 


6 ‘AlUs well that ends well,” broke forth 
young Mr. Hurd again uncontrollably. He 
seemed to be the sort of person who says that 
sort of thing. “You see, Cecily said that the 
home trail was to the east of the swamp, so I 
took out my new pocket-compass and kept 
steering us due east, all on the quiet, and we 
struck something, anyhow!” 

To the utter surprise of everybody present, 
Bill suddenly ejaculated: “Great snakes! So 
that’s it! ” and resumed his own charming grin. 

“What’s what?” demanded Mr. Hurd in a 
coldly dignified manner, surveying Bill with a 
great deal of restraint. 

“No wonder you couldn’t find the trail if you 
tried to locate it by compass.” 

“I believe,” rejoined Mr. Hurd with the 
charitable expression one assumes in dealing 
with weak-minded persons, “that compasses 
are used to tell direction with.” 

“But the magnetic needle in your compass 
was affected by the magnetite iron in the old 
mine. That’s why you all steered yourself out 
of direction and landed here. The iron drew 
you here! I believe, ’ ’ remarked Bill with great 
politeness, “that certain magnetite centers of 
attraction have been known to deflect the mari¬ 
ner’s compass on ships at sea, and cause ship¬ 
wrecks. ’ ’ 

Bill’s blue flannel shirt and old corduroy 
trousers were by no means so fashionable as 




114 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


young Mr. Hurd’s sport attire, but his informa¬ 
tion and his air of being sure of himself with¬ 
out giving offense were impressive enough to 
make Mr. Hurd pause. Mrs. Hurd, moreover, 
remarked, also impressively: 

“Archibald!” 

So Mr. Hurd was inspired to make his first 
sensible utterance: 

“Well, what about supper?” 

“I should say so! Bill, would you telephone 
to my people, and explain to them that we’re 
here, and all right?” requested Cecily wearily. 
“Don’t let mother worry about—anything.” 

The newcomers departed to supper, and the 
faithful Bill to the telephone. There was to be 
no more fun for Priscilla’s party that evening, 
that was certain. The unexpected encounter 
of the Graham and Perrhyn representatives 
had cast a damper over everyone’s spirits, and 
the party sat silently in the lobby, each wait¬ 
ing for someone else to make the next move. 
Calamity, being thus invited, promptly arrived. 

Muriel was sitting on the window-seat. Hav¬ 
ing nothing to do, she began to tap rhyth¬ 
mically on the glass with her finger-nail, and 
enjoying the noise, kept it up with an occasional 
variation in the time. 

* * Muriel, ’ ’ snapped Joyce suddenly , 1 i don’t! ” 

“Don’t what?” Muriel gazed at the usually 
placid Joyce with a provoking expression. 

“Do keep still!” 




THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


115 


4 ‘You said ‘Don’t,’ I thought.” 

“If you make that noise any more I’ll go 
crazy!” 

Muriel continued her tapping, calmly observ¬ 
ant of her friend. 

“Why don’t you go crazy?” she inquired. 
“You said you would.” 

“Mousey!” cried Virginia hotly, rushing 
into the fray. “Stop teasing Joyce! It’s 
mean!” 

“Does this noise disturb you, Virginia?” in¬ 
quired Muriel pointedly. 

“I don’t care what you do!” cried Virginia 
impolitely. 

“Then it’s all right for me to go on,” re¬ 
turned Muriel, sweetly, and on she went. 

Virginia, tired, excited, and downcast by the 
anticlimax of the evening, could stand no more. 
She drew a very long breath, and burst into a 
violent storm of tears. 

The whole disagreement had taken place so 
rapidly that no one had had time to check it. 
Now Muriel stopped her tapping, well ashamed 
of herself, and looked very sorry. She even 
started to say so, but Virginia declined abso¬ 
lutely to receive any apologies, and rushed 
down the long piazza to her own little room 
with frantic whoops and gulps. 

“She’ll be all right in the morning, Muriel,” 
said Aline, shortly, annoyed at Muriel but still 




116 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


realizing that she had tried to make amends. 
“She needs a night’s rest.” 

“I think we all do,” said Mrs. Cleveland 
promptly, “and I suggest your all going to bed 
soon. I’ll be here when Cecily and her cousins 
come back from supper, though I’m sure they 
won’t want to talk this evening.” 

Going to bed did seem to be the only thing to 
do, but no one talked late or kept anyone else 
awake with giggles that night. Fortunately 
everybody was so tired that sleep came at once, 
and no one brooded long over that certainly un- 
fortunate evening. 

It was some hours later, and the moon was 
shining full through the square little window 
in the back of each room in the long row, when 
Dorothy heard Priscilla stirring softly around 
their room, and awoke to see her, fully dressed, 
walking toward the piazza door. 

“Priscilla, what’s the matter?” 

“Hush! I don’t know, but something awful 
is. I thought I’d go out and see. I didn’t mean 
to wake you. ’ ’ 

“I’m glad you did. You mustn’t go out 
alone. What’s happened?” 

“I tell you I don’t know. It’s the most awful 
—awful-” 

“Well, what, for heaven’s sake?” 

“Creaking in the boards,” breathed Priscil¬ 
la’s terrified voice, close to Dorothy’s ear. 

4 4 Goodness! ’ ’ Dorothy was certainly one of 



THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


117 


the least superstitious persons in the world, 
but the small hours on the night of a full moon 
in a haunted house can have an effect on any¬ 
one, especially when, as Priscilla said the 
words, a long, violent squeaking, creaking, and 
rattling such as only moving planks can pro¬ 
duce could be distinctly heard close by. 

Priscilla clutched Dorothy in terror. She 
was by no means so unimpressionable as her 
friend, and Dorothy seemed like a real refuge. 
The noise ceased, and silence reigned. 

“How often have you heard it?” whispered 
Dorothy. 

“About ten times. I’ve been awake an 
hour.” 

“Eats,” said Dorothy, not skeptically, but 
as if suggesting a cause. 

“No, indeed. It’s right in this wall, a board 
about two inches thick!” 

As if to corroborate Priscilla, the boards 
creaked again, not so loudly this time, but with 
a prolonged, slow-dying wail that was per¬ 
fectly nerve-racking. 

“If that happens once again I shall scream!” 
groaned Priscilla. “Say I’m a coward if you 
want to, Dorothy!” 

“I don’t want to at all. But a noise can’t 
hurt you,” argued Dorothy, not enjoying the 
experience particularly herself. “What were 
you going out for?” 





118 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Because if I screamed I’d wake everybody 
up. I don’t like it here to-night.” 

“Surely you don’t believe that silly story 
you told us this afternoon?” 

“Of course not,” said Priscilla indignantly, 
“but I’ve a right not to like it here if I don’t 
want to, haven’t I?” 

It was most unusual for Priscilla to be un¬ 
reasonable, and alarmed Dorothy even more 
than the creaking. Priscilla must be humored. 

“All right, let’s both go out. It will be lots 
of fun! We can sit on that big rock by the 
hedge in the moonlight and watch the world at 
night. I’ll be dressed in a second,” she an¬ 
nounced, jumping up. 

She was dressed, in very little more than the 
amount of time mentioned, and only one more 
creak, a rather feeble one, had been heard, 
when suddenly, just as the girls were about to 
step on the piazza, the air was filled with a ter¬ 
rific rushing noise, and the floods of Niagara 
seemed to descend on the shingles above their 
heads. They turned back and faced—a square 
of moonlight on the floor. 

‘ 1 Dorothy! Look! It’s raining and the moon 
is shining!” gasped Priscilla feebly. “Oh, do 
you think the story’s true, after all?” 

“ No! ” Whatever Dorothy may have feared, 
she resolved to think as she had always 
thought. She stepped boldly to the window. 
The moon hung very low on the horizon, and 



THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


119 


was shedding its beams through the falling 
raindrops that were coming like a cloud burst 
from a small black cloud that darkened part 
of the upper sky. This Dorothy could see 
plainly as she peered out of the window, yet, 
even as she watched, the cloud moved swiftly 
out of her vision, and in a moment the rain 
stopped as suddenly as it had begun. 

“It seems to be over, Priscilla. Perhaps 1 
we’d better not go out now. It’ll be all wet.” 

“Oh, yes, let’s. It won’t be wet under the 
hedge in such a short time. I don’t want to 
stay in this awful house—ugh!” 

Priscilla’s exclamation came simultaneously 
with the commencement of another creak in 
the wall, and Dorothy, nothing loath for a little 
adventure, followed her noiselessly out on the 
piazza. They tiptoed down the steps and then 
down the path leading to the house to a spot 
under the thick evergreen hedge, where a big 
flat rock made an inviting resting-place. Sure 
enough, the part of the rock under the hedge 
was quite dry. They were near enough to the 
house to feel quite safe, and crouched down in 
the shelter of the hedge soothed by the mild 
night in the moonlit woods, where the rain¬ 
drops still glittered on the branches. 

“This is better, isn’t it?” Priscilla’s tone 
mingled despair and relief. “Honestly, it’s 
some comfort to have it better just for a min* 




120 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


ute! Dorothy, my party is simply ruined! We 
come here for a nice, quiet, peaceful time, to get 
rested, and what happens? Cecily and Keith 
crash into each other right on top of us. Every¬ 
body^ nerves are simply shattered. Muriel 
and Joyce and Virginia have a three-cornered 
scrap, the first one on record for them. And 
the house is haunted! A lovely situation, isn’t 
it? Everybody will want to go home to-mor¬ 
row, and neither Keith nor Cecily will ever 
speak to me again!’ ’ 

Two big tears rolled down Priscilla’s cheeks. 
“Nonsense, Prissy dear! Please don’t cry. 
Really you have no reason to. Why shouldn’t 
Keith and Cecily speak to you? You had noth¬ 
ing to do with making them meet. ’ ’ 

“No, but they’ll always associate me with 
their meeting. Oh, oh, dear! ’ ’ 

“And those three children didn’t have much 
of a scrap. They were just like cross babies,” 
pursued Dorothy wisely. “You see if they 
don’t forget all about it to-morrow morning! 
And as for the spooks—don’t you believe it’s 
just the weather that’s queer here? Don’t you 
remember the windstorm that night your father 
told us the Tale of the Valley?” 

Priscilla listened, willing to be comforted, 
and had just opened her lips to speak, with an 
expression which admitted that there might be 
truth in what Dorothy had suggested, when her 
eyes suddenly dilated, and she clutched Doro- 




THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


121 


thy’s arm violently. Dorothy, following her 
glance, was stricken equally dumb, and for a 
moment was almost equally terrified. 

On the edge of the woods, perhaps a hun¬ 
dred yards away, stood a fawn, nibbling at the 
lower branches of some young trees. But such 
a fawn! Snow-white, with the moonlight 
shining on his spotless coat, he was a beautiful 
sight, but in the vicinity of the haunted house, 
rather an appalling one. 

“Keep still, Priscilla, don’t make a noise,” 
Dorothy just managed to gasp. 

“It—it’s the white Thing!” 

“It’s a white Thing. If it’s a real fawn, it 
won’t hurt you, and if it’s not, it can’t!” 

The girls’ voices were too low to carry, but 
something suddenly disturbed the white fawn. 
He jerked his head back into a listening atti¬ 
tude, seemed to glance swiftly toward the inn, 
and suddenly bolted into the woods and van¬ 
ished. There was an instant of complete silence, 
and then Priscilla and Dorothy heard a footstep 
at the upper end of the gravel walk. 

Out of the shadowed piazza Cecily had just 
stepped. Wrapped in her knitted cape, she 
strolled slowly down the path, turned and 
strolled back again. Up and down she walked, 
her head bent, her eyes dark in the shadow of 
her brows. 

“Is she asleep?” breathed Priscilla anxious¬ 
ly, forgetting her own troubles and terrors. 



122 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


6 ‘I don’t think so,” whispered Dorothy. 
“No, listen! Isn’t she whistling?” 

So low, so faint, was the soft music that the 
girls had to listen intently to catch it. Yes, 
Cecily was whistling, whistling gently to her¬ 
self in the strange, sweet notes that were her 
peculiar gift, the “Wanderer’s Night Song”: 

“Midnight peace is resting on the mountain steeps. 

In the silent moonlight all the forest sleeps. 

Not a birdling waketh in its quiet nest. 

Only wait, 0 Wanderer, soon shalt thou find rest.” 

“Dorothy, she’s coming this way,” whis¬ 
pered Priscilla, troubled. Cecily had indeed 
stepped off the gravel walk. “ I do believe she’s 
coming to sit on the rock! ’ ’ 

“Then tell her we’re here.” 

“Cecily, don’t be scared!” said Priscilla in 
her natural voice. “Dorothy and I are here— 
don’t tell on us, will you?” 

Cecily started violently, then recovered her¬ 
self. 

“What in the world are you doing here?” 

“Playing hookey from bed,” answered Doro¬ 
thy quickly, giving Priscilla a telegraphic pinch 
to the effect that “spooks” were not to be 
mentioned. “Did the rain wake you? We 



THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


123 


came out after it stopped to take a look at the 
scenery in the middle of the night.’’ 

“No, it didn’t wake me.” Cecily sat down 
on the rock, where the two girls made room 
for her between them. “That’s the first of the 
fall rain-bursts, I suppose. We generally get 
them in October.” Priscilla looked a little 
foolish, but Cecily, unheeding, went on. “I’ve 
been awake all night, and as it’s nearly morning 
anyhow I came out because it’s no use to try 
to rest.” 

The two younger girls maintained a sympa¬ 
thetic, though rather awkward silence. 

*‘ How could I sleep after what happened last 
evening?” demanded Cecily, roused out of her 
usual reserve by some hidden force that seemed 
to sweep all her sweet merriment away, and 
leave only the stern, honest directness that 
shone from her eyes. “First I get lost—and it 
really was Archie Hurd’s fault, too—and then 
I go smash into Keith Perrhyn, and he looks at 
me as if I wasn’t even a human being!” 

“Oh!” Priscilla made a soft little exclama¬ 
tion, but Cecily swept on. 

“You’re going to say I treated him as if he 
wasn’t a human being! What else can I do? 
What would my people do if I did anything 
else ? Is that old quarrel my fault f Did I com¬ 
mence it—or want it? I don’t. I’m just caught 
in a mill-race! ’ ’ 

Something had evidently tried Cecily too far. 




124 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


Inasmuch as she had herself introduced the 
topic of the feud, Priscilla felt emboldened to 
speak. 

“Cecily, you say you don’t want the quarreL 
Does it have to be ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, my dear child!” cried Cecily, almost 
with a smile, though tears were gathering in 
her eyes. “How can I stop it? I’m the only 
person that wants it to stop. Do my parents, 
or Mr. Perrhyn? Why shouldn’t I say so right 
out to you? Everybody in the valley knows all 
about our affairs, so no doubt you’ve heard full 
details! Do you know that Mr. Perrhyn is go¬ 
ing to try to stop my father from being nom¬ 
inated for village president next month, be¬ 
cause he thinks he spited the school board, of 
which Mr. Perrhyn is president, over iron-work 
for the schoolhouse? He doesn’t want any 
change, I ’ll venture to say, nor that son of his 
either!” 

“I don’t believe that,” said Dorothy firmly. 
“Keith Perrhyn is as intelligent as you are.” 

Priscilla gasped at the boldness of this 
stroke. Yet it proved to be wise. Cecily was 
too honest to contradict the truth, even when it 
came to her as an entirely new idea. 

“Perhaps you’re right,” she said dazedly, 
after a little while. “Really, I never thought of 
that.” 

“Cecily,” said Dorothy courageously, “this 




THE HAUNTED HOUSE 


125 


disagreement you tell us of is getting worse. 
Isn’t it!” 

“All the time.” 

“Then—somehow—it must be stopped.” 

Cecily and Priscilla both looked at Dorothy 
in astonishment mingled with real respect. Her 
tone was final and inspiring. 

“I would do anything in the world to stop it, 
that is, anything honorable. But I’m consid¬ 
ered bound by the word of a Graham—” Ce¬ 
cily’s voice trailed off. Then she raised it 
again, a little impatiently. “Why should I 
stop the quarrel, anyhow, more than anyone 
else!” 

Dorothy drove straight to the point. 

“Never mind other people. You are too hon¬ 
est to keep on doing something you have de¬ 
cided is wrong.” 

“So that’s my trouble!” There was some¬ 
thing almost like a twinkle in Cecily’s wet 
brown eyes for one instant, then her sadness 
returned. “But how can I do away with a long¬ 
standing, deep disagreement all by myself!” 

“You can’t. Both sides always have to 
make up a quarrel,” said Priscilla, realizing 
the justice of Cecily’s objection. 

“Well, I’ll make up my mind to this at least,” 
said Cecily slowly, but with resolution, after a 
thoughtful pause, “that if a chance comes to 
heal the Valley feud honorably I’ll do my 
share.” 




126 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


She stretched out a hand to each of her com¬ 
panions. Each clasped it affectionately, and 
the three girls sat silently side by side on the 
rock under the hedge for a long time. The 
moonlight faded, the sky grew lighter. A 
breeze rustled in the branches of the trees, and 
a faint bird-note echoed far off. Cecily, re¬ 
sponding, her eyes fixed on the distant woods, 
began to whistle very softly, and quite uncon¬ 
sciously repeated the last bars of the old song: 

11 Only wait, 0 Wanderer, soon shalt thou find 
rest.” 

A pale band of salmon-pink appeared over 
the black eastern woods, and grew bright. It 
was daybreak. 




CHAPTER X 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 


^TER the eventful night spent in—and 



out of—the Haunted House, an early 


M breakfast was a welcome event, and 
Dorothy and Priscilla hastened to the dining¬ 
room just as soon as they heard the rattle of 
dishes. On the threshold they stopped short 
in amazement. 

“Why, Paul Stone, I thought you were at 
Lake Nanaukee!” cried Dorothy, astonished to 
see her twin brother already at the table. 

“Why, Eliot, I didn’t know you were here!” 
said Priscilla, equally astonished to see her 
brother. “And here are Muriel’s cousins— 
Roger and Len and Ben Sutherland. What are 
you all doing here 1 ’ ’ 

“Having some breakfast. Do join us!” in¬ 
vited Paul with an imitation of a Russian 
grand-ducal manner which was very fair, con¬ 
sidering that he was short and square-set like 
Dorothy and attired in a very old and much 


127 


128 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


beloved green mackinaw. Dorothy, taken by 
surprise at his appearance, and off her guard, 
made the mistake of letting him push her chair 
in to the table, and was trying, with no success 
whatever, to push herself out again, when Eliot 
created a diversion by ordering: 

“Jolly! Pass down the coffee, will you?” 

Roger—appropriately nicknamed 11 J oily ’ 9 
after the well-known Jolly Roger because he 
was very solemn—picked up the coffee-pot, 
looked into it, poured its contents into his own 
cup, and replied: 

“That was cold, Eliot. It wouldn’t be nice. 
Wait until Mrs. Wilkens brings in some that’s 
hot.” 

“What are you boys really doing here?” in¬ 
sisted Priscilla. 

“We’re on an exploring trip collecting speci¬ 
mens of minerals for the camp exhibit we’re 
going to hold before we break up next week. 
The trip’s under my direction,” explained 
Eliot, who was a responsible and capable-look¬ 
ing lad of nearly seventeen. 

“Sure, he’s boss,” agreed Roger. “Mrs. 
Wilkens”—as that pleasant lady entered with 
a platter of griddle cakes—‘ ‘ Mister Cleveland 
would like some coffee, please! ’ ’ 

Mrs. Wilkens, on her return with the coffee¬ 
pot, informed the girls that Cecily’s party had 
taken a very early meal and left the shelter 
some time before for the Gray House, informa- 



A COUNCIL OF WAR 


129 


tion that both girls received with some relief. 
The night had been trying, and an interval of 
rest would make the next meeting with Cecily 
easier. 

“We had a lot of fun last night, hey, Eliot?” 
resumed Roger, just as his friend picked up his 
coffee cup. 

The serious-minded Eliot set down the cof¬ 
fee untasted, and joined Paul and Ben and Len 
Sutherland in a fit of almost hysterical laugh¬ 
ter. 

“You see, ,, went on Roger to the mystified 
girls, as he speared half a dozen sausages, “we 
started off yesterday afternoon and slept in 
our cave. What? Never mind where it is. It’s 
a swell cave, we found it, and it’s ours. Well, 
along some time this morning a couple of fel¬ 
lows came hiking that way, and woke us up 
making a little fire for coffee just outside our 
place. Eliot stuck his head out of the cave, 
and he knew who they were-” 

“Perrhyn and that red-headed friend of 
his,” contributed Eliot, taking a fourth muffin. 
“They didn’t see me.” 

“So as long as they weren’t strangers, we 
thought we’d be friendly. When they went to 
the spring for water, Paul popped out and 
changed their sugar for some of our salt, and 
of course they nearly went crazy when they 
took a big gulp of the salt coffee! You ought to 
have seen them beat it back to the spring for a 





130 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


drink! That time I went out and dropped the 
sugar into their coffee-pot, which was still half 
full, and brought back the salt. Well, the sec¬ 
ond time, they drew a first-rate cup of coffee, 
of course, and were just as astonished as before, 
when Eliot reached out of the darkness and 
dumped the salt on the fire, and of course it 
gave a fierce loud sputter and went out just the 
way fire always does when you put salt on it!’ ’ 

“But that red-head beat us all to it after 
all,” continued Len, as Roger returned to his 
breakfast, “because he turned around just in 
time to see Eliots fingers disappearing, and he 
made a grab, and hauled him right out of the 
cave! ’ ’ 

“And he flung me on top of Perrhyn, and 
dashed into the cave himself,” cried Eliot. 

“Gee whizz, if there’d been ten wildcats 
there, he could have killed ’em all,” declared 
Ben, with the vivid recollections of an eye-wit¬ 
ness of Bill’s prowess still with him. “Of 
course Perrhyn recognized Eliot, and we ex¬ 
plained, and then it was so nearly morning that 
we helped ’em drink up the rest of the coffee 
and went along a way with them. That fellow 
Bill is a real sport. I thought Perrhyn was an 
awful grouch at first, but I guess he’s really all 
right.” 

Priscilla, who had followed this artless nar¬ 
rative with close attention, gave an agonized 
glance at Dorothy. Small wonder if Keith had 




A COUNCIL OF WAR 


131 


seemed a “grouch” in the circumstances! Dor¬ 
othy, to her astonishment, looked very calm and 
reflective, and smiled encouragingly. 

“Mr. Keith Perrhyn is a very important 
young gentleman in these parts,” remarked 
Mrs. Wilkens, who had also been enjoying the 
boys’ adventures. “I don’t think many people 
ever have played tricks on him.” 

“What are you girls doing here, anyhow?” 
inquired Eliot whose appetite seemed finally 
satisfied, so that he could manifest an interest 
in others. “I suppose father and mother are 
here, Priscilla?” 

“Yes, the whole house party’s here. We’re 
Two-Day Hiking. We’ll be home again this 
afternoon.” 

“I suppose you boys are off for two or three 
days?” inquired Dorothy casually. 

“Yes,” replied Eliot, “we’ll sleep in the 
cave, and tour around in the daytime till we 
find all the specimens we want.” 

“It’s a shame that cave’s so far from The 
Log Cabin that you can’t come home to 
luncheon to-morrow.” 

“Why? Who said it was too far, anyhow?” 

“Oh, I just thought it must be! Because 
we ’re going to have chocolate cake with marsh¬ 
mallow sauce,” said Dorothy, giving the aston¬ 
ished Priscilla a violently unladylike private 
wink to the effect that an invitation was to be 
at once forthcoming. 



132 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Well, come if you can. The cake’ll be there 
anyway,” said Priscilla with just the right 
amount of indifference, and a blind faith in 
Dorothy’s maneuvers. It was the first she had 
heard of the cake. 

At this point all the other members of Pris¬ 
cilla’s party arrived, and the gayest among 
them was Virginia, who danced into the dining¬ 
room clasping Muriel with one arm and Joyce 
with the other, as she exclaimed: 

“Oh, girls, you must come and see my room 
after breakfast! I have the funniest bed, stuck 
on the wall like a berth in a train, and it plays 
a tune every time you move! Mrs. Wilkens 
says that first when they built the shelter they 
put in bunks like that, but people didn’t think 
they were comfortable, so mine is the last one 
left. Oh, it has the cunningest, funniest squeak! 
I wouldn’t have missed it for anything! Pris¬ 
cilla, you nearly got it yourself, because your 
room was next door!” 

Priscilla was spared a reply to this unex¬ 
pected explanation of Spook No. 1 by the un¬ 
conscious Roger, who had been showing Mr. 
Cleveland a neat collection of bits of quartz, 
mica, feldspar, granite, and varieties of iron 
ore, and who interrupted his own remarks to 
ejaculate: 

“Oh, say, what do you think we saw on that 
hike early this morning? A red fawn, only he 
was white!” 



A COUNCIL OF WAR 


133 


“Whales that? You don’t mean an albino 
fawn?” cried Mr. Cleveland. “I saw one here 
years and years ago, and I heard there was one 
in Interstate Park, east of this. That must be 
the one you saw.” 

“He was going east,” declared Roger, “and 
mighty wise of him too, for they don’t allow 
shooting there, and all the wild animals are pro¬ 
tected. This fellow didn’t have a red hair on 
him—he certainly was a sight in the moon¬ 
light?” 

“Like a ghost, eh, Priscilla?” commented 
Mr. Cleveland, turning to his embarrassed 
daughter. “Now, if you’d only had that to put 
in your story yesterday! 

It seemed as if the day was to be full of 
astonishing revelations and surprises. Indeed, 
not the least of these was the fact that it passed 
off very pleasantly. The startling Graham- 
Perrhyn encounter of the previous evening 
somehow became, in the minds of all Priscilla’s 
party, just one of those unfortunate happen¬ 
ings which no one can be blamed for or help, 
and everybody’s energy was spent in enjoying 
the rest of the Two-Day Hike. 

But Priscilla’s greatest surprise came to her 
that evening at home when Dorothy approached 
her privately. 

“Priscilla dear, what are we going to do to¬ 
morrow morning?” 

“I was going to suggest calling a business 




134 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


meeting of the club, to plan a little about next 
winter. But I suppose I’ve got to make that 
chocolate cake instead!” 

“That’s simply splendid—I mean having the 
meeting. Call it by all means, but just say it’s 
a business meeting. And call it early, so you 
can make the cake later. Priscilla, I’ve a plan 
to help Cecily!” 

“Oh, what is it?” 

“I’ll tell it in the meeting to-morrow, for it 
won’t be any good unless everybody joins in 
and helps. But listen: before I tell what it is, 
you must tell the girls that Cecily said she 
wanted the feud stopped. Then they’ll all want 
to help. ’ ’ 

“Oh, they do anyhow,” said Priscilla. And 
with complete faith in Dorothy’s program, she 
called a meeting for nine o’clock the next morn¬ 
ing in the Nook. 

This was a curving pebbly stretch of shore 
from which the river had receded, situated at 
the foot of a shale-bank, which, crowded with 
a dense fir thicket, sheltered the spot from the 
wind and the dust of the nearby road. Carpeted 
with a couple of steamer rugs, it was an ideal 
place for a conference. 

“Girls,” began Priscilla, after the decidedly 
informal meeting had “come to order,” “the 
business to-day is rather unusual. It’s about 
the Valley feud. You know the night father 
told us the story, I said I was sure Cecily 




A COUNCIL OF WAR 


135 


couldn’t like the quarrel, but we all seemed to 
agree that no outsider could do anything about 
it or even mention it to either of the families 
concerned. Well, day before yesterday, Cecily 
herself mentioned it to Dorothy and me.” 

There was a sensation. 

“What on earth did she say? How, oh, how 
did she come to talk about it?” cried several 
of the girls at once. 

Now Priscilla and Dorothy had agreed that 
the details of Cecily’s sudden outburst that 
moonlit morning at the hikers’ shelter were 
certainly to be considered confidential, but they 
saw no reason for concealing the fact that she 
had stated that the feud was a grief to her. 
So Priscilla answered: 

“She didn’t talk long about it, but she said 
that if there ever was a chance to heal the Val¬ 
ley feud honorably, she would do her share. 
Those were her actual words, weren’t they, 
Dorothy?” 

“Yes. So, you see, there’s one side ready to 
make it up,” explained Dorothy. 

“But is there a chance to heal it, really?” 
cried Rose excitedly. 

“I guess Dorothy thinks so. Anyway, she 
has a plan she wants to tell about,” said Pris¬ 
cilla, turning to Dorothy, who blushed violently 
and writhed a little under the intense interest 
this announcement aroused. 

“Well, go ahead and tell it! Hurry!” com- 




136 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


manded Helena, who never objected to pub¬ 
licity. 

44 All right, here it is!” announced Dorothy 
boldly. 4 4 The broken link has got to be 
mended! ’ 9 

This was a bombshell, and it exploded. 

4 4 But how-” 

44 But why-” 

44 But we can’t-” 

44 But there isn’t-” 

4 ‘Dorothy has the floor—that is, the rug!” 
cried Priscilla, rapping for order on a rock. 

44 Give her a chance! Let her finish, and then 
4 but’ all you like!” 

44 It seems to me,” proceeded Dorothy, trying 
to present all her ideas in correct order, 4 4 that 
this feud can’t be healed until the pledge of 
silence between the Graham and Perrhyn fam¬ 
ilies is broken. They’ve given their word, and 
they both will keep it. It can’t be broken until 
4 the link is joined again,’ you know. Now, if 
the link is mended, there can be no excuse for 
keeping up the silence, and if the silence is 
broken, the feud will be healed.” 

44 Very clear,” admitted Evelyn, and the 
others nodded. 4 4 But how go about mending 
the link? I suppose of course you mean Ce¬ 
cily’s piece of it. I thought you and Priscilla 
decided that day down at the well that the 
Perrhyn piece must be all rusted away?” 

44 I’ve changed my mind,” said Dorothy, 




A COUNCIL OF WAR 


137 


with calm conviction. “I think we were mis¬ 
taken. Of course, I ought to say this, girls: 
my plan is just a plan, and it may not succeed. 
But I think there ’s a good chance it will, for I 
think that link is in the well yet.” 

* 1 How did you come to change your mind ?’ 9 
demanded Priscilla. 

“Because the chain at West Point isn’t 
rusted.” 

“No, but it’s just standing outdoors. This 
link is down a well.’ 9 

“A dry well.” 

“Yes, but there was no ringing sound when 
you threw in the stones.” 

“No. But that’s no proof that the link frag¬ 
ment isn’t there.” 

“Why not?” 

“For this reason: I asked your father how 
long the well has been dry, and he said most 
of the time since old Mr. Perrhyn threw the 
link in. Indeed, some of the people here were 
superstitious about that, and said it was what 
dried up the well! Anyway, since it didn’t dry 
up at once, there was a chance for the action 
of the water to rust the fragment partly, but 
not entirely. Now, if the well is dry, if the 
fragment hasn’t had time to be entirely rusted, 
and yet is not on the bottom, what has become 
of it? Do you know what I think? I think 
something may have buoyed it up out of the 
water all the time! ’ ’ 




138 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


‘ * Like the logs at West Point !” cried Evelyn, 
the first to see Dorothy’s carefully reasoned 
theory. “West Point’s the key to this situa¬ 
tion, too! How did you ever think that all out, 
Dorothy?” 

“Don’t ask me, for goodness’ sake! I got 
all those ideas the day we went to West Point, 
and thought I should go crazy getting them 
straightened out. And furthermore, I realized 
there also that if those links in the old chain 
could be melted one by one and forged together, 
these two fragments could be, too.” 

“Who in the world could do that?” de¬ 
manded Joyce. 

“Bill Bailey.” 

Dorothy had already won the confidence of 
her audience, but the thought of the formidable 
Bill as an ally made an adventurous enterprise 
like the healing of the Valley feud seem a cer¬ 
tain success. There was no further opposition. 

“Hurray, Dorothy, you’re a real general!” 
cried Rose. “We’ll all enlist under you! But 
how do we go about getting these pieces of the 
link, to begin with? Are you going to call for 
volunteers to go down the well?” 

“No, I’m-” 

“Dorothy, you are absolutely not going down 
yourself!” cried Priscilla in alarm. “Not if 
these foolish people don’t speak to each other 
until the Day of Judgment! ’ ’ 

“Priscilla Cleveland, do you think I am en- 




A COUNCIL OF WAR 


139 


tirely crazy ?” demanded Dorothy with some 
erf the warmth of temper which has character¬ 
ized many distinguished military leaders. 
“Why, do you mean to say that you don’t 
know yet why I made those boys think of com¬ 
ing to luncheon to-day? Paul is to go down 
the well, and the others are to let him down! 
Once they are full of chocolate cake and marsh¬ 
mallow sauce, I shall tell them what to do. It’s 
not a deep well, and climbing up and down on 
ropes is an old story to Paul. He does it in the 
gymnasium by the hour.” 

“Dorothy, I apologize humbly. You are a 
great strategist. I am proud to share in your 
plans by making the cake,” declared Priscilla 
respectfully. 

“You must do more than that. After—if— 
when we have found the piece of the link in the 
well, you must go and persuade Cecily to let 
us have her piece so Bill can weld them to¬ 
gether.” 

“Oh, mercy! That will be a task! Still, it’s 
a perfectly honorable way to stop the quarrel, 
I suppose, so she ought to be willing to. You’ll 
come with me?” 

“No,” said Dorothy firmly, “I’ll be general 
if you like, but I won’t be ambassador too! 
Take Helena, if you must have company.” 

“I think two would be better than one, if 
Helena doesn’t mind?” Priscilla recognized 
the wisdom of Dorothy’s choice. 




140 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Ill be delighted, if I'm any use,” answered 
Helena. “But seriously, Dorothy—and Pris¬ 
cilla—I don't think you realize where your real 
difficulty is. It's not getting up the fragment 
from the well, that's just a lot of work. And 
it's not in persuading Cecily, either, if she 
really wants to make up the quarrel. And I 
don't think Bill will give you a minute's anx¬ 
iety! But I do think you'll have a bad time 
with—Keith Perrhyn.” 

Dorothy, entirely taken by surprise, stared 
questioningly at Helena, but listened to her 
quite willingly, as did the other girls. Helena 
was more mature than any of them, for, in the 
enforced absence from home much of the time 
of her widowed mother, who was a teacher, she 
had been thrown more on her own resources 
than any of the others, and, in mingling with 
an entirely different set of people represented 
by her wealthier cousins, she had had an un¬ 
usual opportunity to observe character. 

“Keith is lovely. Why don't you like him?” 
demanded Virginia loyally. 

“He is, and I do like him, Jinny.” Helena 
smiled. “But lovely people can be just the 
way he is—very, very proud. That's why I 
think you may have trouble getting him to do 
his share toward making up this quarrel, Doro¬ 
thy. Haven't you noticed how pleased he seems 
with himself and everything he does, all the 
time? He isn't unpleasant about it, I don't 





A COUNCIL OF WAR 


141 


mean that. I mean he’s just a sort of lord of 
the manor, don’t you know?” 

‘‘Well, maybe,” hesitated Dorothy, recalling 
to mind Mrs. Wilkens’ words, “a very impor¬ 
tant young gentleman,” and Ben Sutherland’s 
less complimentary epithet of “grouch.” “But 
surely you don’t think he wants this silly feud? 
An intelligent person like that ? ’ ’ 

“No, I don’t believe he wants it. But he may 
be awfully proud of it because nobody else has 
one, like the hangnail I had when I was a little 
girl and nearly let poison me because I was 
proud of being distinguished by it!” Several 
of the girls remembered Helena’s pride on that 
occasion, and laughed at the aptness of the 
illustration. “Dorothy, I don’t want to hinder 
you. I ’ll do everything I can to help you! Only, 
you look out for Keith Perrhyn, in case he’s 
prouder than he is intelligent.” 

“I’m much obliged to you, Helena, I’m sure. 
I never would have thought of his being any 
obstacle, and I’ll be prepared if he is,” said 
Dorothy gratefully. “Now, the only thing left 
to settle is, what each of us shall do in getting 
this link mended. I guess I’d better go down 
to the well with the boys this afternoon, and 
perhaps Priscilla ought to come with me, be¬ 
cause she’s hostess here.” 

“Certainly,” agreed Helena. “I’ll be ready 
to go to Cecily’s whenever you want me, Pris¬ 
cilla.” 




142 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Then I think Rose and Evelyn might sit un¬ 
der the trees near the road and keep a watch 
out in case anybody else might stroll down to 
the well while we were there. And Muriel, too. 
They might need a messenger,’ 9 continued Dor¬ 
othy. 

“Aline and Jinny and I are supposed to wash 
the luncheon dishes and peel the potatoes for 
supper,” said Joyce with a slight scowl. “What 
can we do?” 

“We can wash the dishes and peel the po¬ 
tatoes,” answered Aline with prompt good 
sense. “Not very exciting, is it? But are we 
going to tell everybody in the Valley we’re 
mending this link until it’s mended? Some¬ 
body’s got to do ordinary things, so there won’t 
be any suspicions aroused. Jinny, be good! 
Don’t you love Cecily and Keith enough to peel 
potatoes for them?” 

“Of course you do!” cried Priscilla, as Vir¬ 
ginia’s face relaxed into a smile. “And listen, 
Jinny, you can steal the clothes-line for us, and 
put it on the back porch, will you? Aline, you’re 
a trump, and you deserve a lot of credit. No¬ 
body ever wants to do horrid jobs at home, and 
somebody always has to, to make things hap¬ 
pen elsewhere.” 

“All right, I’ll wash dishes if that’ll help 
mend the link,” cried Joyce, restored at once 
to good humor. 

“We’ll need all the help we can get. I’m 




A COUNCIL OF WAR 


143 


afraid we have an awful battle on our hands,’’ 
sighed Priscilla, dubiously. 

1 ‘Cheer up! It won’t be the first battle that 
old link has seen! ’ ’ cried Evelyn merrily. 

“Nor the first victory!” declared General 
Dorothy. 




CHAPTER XI 


KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE 

IRGINIA was a thorough worker. Pro¬ 



vided with the congenial task of ab¬ 


stracting the clothes-line from the 
kitchen closet, she not only found it promptly 
and placed it on the back porch behind a barrel, 
but she also ascended to the top floor of The 
Log Cabin, and annexed another rope which 
she remembered to have seen lying on the floor 
at the far end of the hall from the stairs. It 
was quite superior to the clothes-line, being 
nearly three times as thick and brand-new. She 
concealed it carefully under her large kitchen 
apron, smuggled it downstairs, and placed it 
with the clothes-line. 

The five boys—Eliot, Paul, and the three 
Sutherlands—found it a pleasant change, even 
from the acknowledged superiority of caves, to 
sit on the wide piazza of The Log Cabin that 
warm afternoon after luncheon. There was 
something to be said, after all, for not always 
cooking one’s own meals over a fire outdoors. 


144 


KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE 


145 


They were about to settle down to the absorbing 
undertaking of labeling nearly ninety different 
kinds of ore and specimens of stone, when 
Dorothy came prancing up the steps. 

“Paul,” she said in a mysterious whisper, 
“I want you.” 

“What for? I’m busy,” said Paul in a tone 
of unwilling curiosity. 

“That can wait,” declared Dorothy ruth¬ 
lessly, indicating the collection of prizes spread 
out on the piazza floor. “I want you for some¬ 
thing that’s really exciting.” 

“What is it? Shoot!” 

“I want you to come and climb down an old 
dry well in the woods, and find a lost treasure!” 

“Whereabouts is the well?” demanded Rog¬ 
er, shooting to his feet, and kicking the best 
quartz specimen carelessly off the piazza. 

“Here! This is my well, Jolly. Keep away!” 
commanded Paul sternly. “What’s the treas¬ 
ure, Dot?” 

“It’s a piece of the Revolutionary chain at 
West Point. Oh, dear, you don’t know about 
the Grahams and Perrhyns having a link that 
was broken”- 

“Sure we do,” contradicted Paul. “Eliot told 
us all about it and the feud and everything 
that morning after we met Perrhyn and Bill. 
Some story! Is that link still down my well?” 

“Your well! You have some nerve!” inter¬ 
rupted Eliot with a shade of warmth. “That 



146 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


was old Bailey’s well, in the first place, and 
when he died the State got the land, and hasn’t 
ever sold it, so I guess anybody that wants to 
go down that well has as much right to as 
you have! But what’s the idea of trying to 
fish up the link, if it’s there, Dorothy?” 

‘ 1 Cecily Graham wants to end the feud. It’s 
getting worse every day,” explained Dorothy, 
knowing that brevity would help her cause 
with the boys. “ Cecily is terribly unhappy 
about it, so we girls have a plan to ask Bill 
Bailey if he can’t weld together Cecily’s part 
of the link and this piece down the well, so the 
families can think their honor is satisfied and 
speak to each other. ’ ’ 

“Pretty risky, butting into a feud,” began 
Eliot, the conservative. But Dorothy swept 
him promptly to one side, particularly since 
she saw Paul and the three Sutherlands keen 
for adventure. 

“ Eliot, Cecily wants the feud stopped. If 
that’s the case, don’t you think we ought to go 
ahead?” 

“If that’s the case, I’ll help you,” com¬ 
promised Eliot. 

“But ’tis I that shall descend yon well,” 
announced Paul immovably. “Thou, good sir, 
shalt hold the ropes—that is, I suppose there 
are ropes, hey, Dot?—and Jolly Roger shalt 
lend me his flashlight, and the two kids shalt 
stand by to render aid if wanted.” 




KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE 


147 


* ‘ Come on, then, round the back way. Pris¬ 
cilla, come along!” cried Dorothy, leading the 
way around the house, and snatching Priscilla 
from a rustic bench on the side-lawn where she 
had been anxiously awaiting the outcome of 
Dorothy’s maneuvers. 

The ropes were quickly examined. Rope No. 
2 was pronounced by expert opinion to he a 
prize, and Rope No. 1, otherwise the clothes¬ 
line, was declared excellent for the purpose of 
lassoing fragments of Revolutionary chains. 
The distance up the road to the well-path was 
rapidly covered, and with a wave to Rose and 
Evelyn and Muriel, who sat knitting under the 
trees nearby, Dorothy and Priscilla and the 
five boys trooped down to the old well half- 
hidden in the woods. 

It was early in the afternoon, so the well and 
its surroundings were much more easily seen 
than in the fading daylight when Dorothy and 
Priscilla had visited the spot before. Though 
the woods now grew almost up to the well-curb, 
a single old crooked apple-tree stood near the 
well, and showed that once the surrounding 
land had been farmed. One or two of its long 
branches reached across the well itself, and 
others sprawled over a tumble-down stone wall 
that Eliot pointed out as having been part of 
the wall which old Bailey had built around his 
little farm. Not a trace remained of even the 
foundation of the Bailey homestead, however, 




148 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


and the head of the present Bailey family lived 
in a humble workman’s cottage in Brockway 
village. 

But though the young people realized the 
sadness of the change in fortune that had over¬ 
taken that family, the adventure before them 
filled their imaginations. Dorothy, perhaps 
feeling some scruples about asking the boys to 
do the hardest part of a task which did not 
really concern them personally, began to say, 
quite truthfully, that the well, in the present 
light, appeared neither deep nor dangerous. It 
was at once evident, however, that these facts 
were not popular, so she promptly begged Paul 
anxiously to take great care of himself, and 
helped the boys straighten out the ropes ready 
for action. 

“Look here,” said Paul, examining the scene 
of the adventure, “why don’t we take this long 
clothes-line and sound the well? Then we can 
measure the distance to the bottom on the big 
rope, and if that one’s long enough, let’s hitch 
it to the branch of the tree that’s sticking out 
over the well. That’d be much easier to go 
down than if somebody’s holding it at one 
end.” 

Ben at once tied a stone to the end of the 
clothes-line, and took soundings. The well ap¬ 
peared to be a little deeper than it had looked, 
which was considered agreeable, and entirely 
dry, which was not disagreeable. The distance 




KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE 


149 


to the bottom, measured off on the thick rope, 
left a margin of about thirty feet. Roger 
promptly climbed the tree, crawled out on the 
heavy bough that overhung the well, and tied 
the rope firmly around the branch just over the 
mouth of the well, with an extra hitch for 
safety’s sake around the tree-trunk. 

Now it was Paul’s turn to shine, and he be¬ 
gan by taking a seat on the well-curb while the 
other boys knotted the clothes-line around his 
waist two or three times, just as a precaution 
in case he should slip on the big rope. Paul 
was too experienced a gymnast to take foolish 
chances, though he had perfect self-confidence. 
The trailing end of the long clothes-line was 
given into the charge of Len, with orders to 
hold it firmly. Paul then stuffed Roger’s elec¬ 
tric flashlight into his hip-pocket, wound his 
feet around the heavy rope hanging down into 
the well, seized the upper part of it, and bidding 
Eliot and Ben grasp the rope quickly after he 
swung off, so as to keep him from bouncing 
on the sides of the well, pulled himself to posi¬ 
tion and started on the journey down. 

“All right!” he shouted a minute later, 
breaking a rather tense silence among the 
anxious watchers above. 

“What’s it like down there?” demanded 
Eliot. 

“Cold as Greenland. Dark, too.” A light 




150 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


appeared, flashing up and down the sides of the 
well. 

“Look for the link, Paul,” ordered Dorothy. 
“Is it on the bottom?” 

A flood of light revealed the depths of the 
well to those above. Paul searched carefully 
in every direction. 

“No, it’s not here,” he finally reported, “and 
the bottom is flat and as hard as stone.” 

He raised the flashlight and held it above his 
head, turning slowly around, and examining 
every inch of the walls in all directions. 

“There’s not a thing here except some 
moss,” he reported. “How heavy would that 
piece of the chain be, anyway?” 

“I guess it would be thirty or thirty-five 
pounds, don’t you, Eliot ? ’ ’ suggested Priscilla. 

“Fully that, if it’s about one-third of a full 
link. Go on looking, Paul. Are the walls per¬ 
fectly straight up and down? Could the link 
have been flung into some niche, do you think ?’ 9 

“They’re very irregular, but I couldn’t look 
at them much coming down. I tell you what: 
I’ll start climbing up, very slowly, and I’ll turn 
the light on the walls all the way round as I 
go. Hold the rope steady!” 

Paul seized the rope again, and with the skill 
of highly trained muscles, began to climb by 
means of his feet and one hand. Progress was 
naturally slow, and it was a weird sight that the 
watching faces above the well saw, as the circle 




KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE 


151 


of light moved round and round the deep, dark 
orifice beneath them. Even tense anxiety could 
not rob the spectacle of its interest, and when 
Paul was about three-quarters of the way up to 
earth again, anxiety vanished also, as seven 
voices shouted simultaneously: 

“There it is!” 

Protruding from the surface of the well-wall, 
balanced on some indistinct support, was a 
black crescent-shape perhaps ten or twelve 
inches in width, cast into high relief by the 
flashlight. 

“This looks like it,” remarked Paul. “Now 
the next thing is to get it up. Let go the rope, 
up there, till I swing over and take a look at it.” 

A series of swaying journeys in the direction 
of the iron fragment resulted in the announce¬ 
ment that Paul feared it was too heavy for him 
to pick up with one hand, and he needed the 
other to climb up to earth with. 

“Good land! Bring it up in your mouth!” 
suggested Roger ironically. “And watch out 
and don’t knock it down to the bottom, 
meddling with it that way, for it’s pretty old, 
after all, and it might break. Here, we’ll cut 
off a piece of the clothes-line, and throw it to 
you, and you can tie that to the link, and then 
bring the end up with you so we can haul it up. ’ , 

Len, however, pointed out immediately that 
the clothes-line would hardly stand so many 
demands. One strand of it was scarcely strong 



152 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


enough to guarantee the lifting of the thirty- 
pound fragment of iron, and more than one 
would shorten it too much to use it for a safety 
belt for Paul also. While they were debating 
what to do next, Len suddenly felt himself 
being dragged to the mouth of the well by a 
hidden power much too strong for him. He let 
go the clothes-line just in time, as PauPs im¬ 
patient voice rose from the depths: 

“Hey! I can’t hang here much longer! Len, 
did you drop that line ?’ 9 

“Yes, it’s lying on the ground .’ 9 

“Well, pick it up and pull it in.” 

Len obeyed. The whole clothes-line was im¬ 
mediately in his hands. Eliot peered horrified 
over the well-curb. 

“Here, Paul, what do you think you’re do¬ 
ing, taking off that safety-rope?” 

“Pshaw, I don’t want it! I’m nearly up 
again,” said Paul, who was only a short dis¬ 
tance below the surface. “But this is getting 
tiresome. Len! Double that rope, and fling 
it down to me double-quick! ’ ’ 

He caught the descending rope, swung again 
over toward the fragment of the chain which 
was lodged securely on the wall, and held a 
position close to it by firmly planting his right 
elbow in a niche nearby. In the crook of this 
elbow he caught the rope on which he was sup¬ 
porting himself by his feet and legs, trans¬ 
ferred the flashlight to his right hand, and with 





KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE 


153 


his left hand looped the doubled clothes-line 
tightly through the iron crescent. The next in¬ 
stant he was swinging comfortably in mid-air 
again, and the next, he landed on the well-curb, 
the clothes-line held between his teeth. 

“Oh, Paul dear, I’m so glad you’re up 
again!” cried Dorothy, with compunction and 
an unusual display of emotion. “Suppose you 
had fallen down—it would have been my 
fault!” 

“Save up the weeps for some time when you 
need them,” advised Paul gracefully. “That 
wasn’t anything but a lot of fun.” 

“He really thinks so, and so do the other 
boys,” murmured Priscilla aside to Dorothy, 
as the five boys hauled vigorously on the 
clothes-line. “Hurrah! Here the link comes at 
last!” 

“Goodness, I had just about forgotten it!” 
declared Dorothy. “Well, it does look like a 
piece of the West Point chain, doesn’t it? Pris¬ 
cilla, do you think it’s going to fit the Graham 
piece of the link?” 

“It looks exactly right to me—doesn’t it to 
you, Eliot?” Eliot nodded his corroboration 
of Priscilla’s verdict on the black fragment, 
lying on the dead leaves and getting its first 
ray of daylight in so many decades. “But, 
Paul, how did this come to be sticking on the 
wall?” 

“I give it up!” declared Paul, flinging him- 



154 LINGEE-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


self down in the leaves for a rest. “But there 
it stuck, on a great big iron hook, driven into 
the wall of the well. There was another hook 
like it, too, on the opposite side.” 

“How awfully queer!” cried Dorothy. 

“Oh, I know what those hooks were for!” 
cried Boger, who was never known to forget a 
piece of information he had once acquired. 
“I’ve read about ’em. In old days, people 
used to have them in wells to hang buckets of 
mi lk and butter on in hot weather, so they 
wouldn’t spoil. I believe that Perrhyn piece 
of the link caught on old Bailey’s hook when it 
was flung down, and stayed there ever since!” 

“That’s just what happened! Well, I do 
think you boys are perfectly wonderful, all of 
you! We couldn’t even have started getting 
this feud mended if it hadn’t been for you,” 
began Priscilla. 

But all pleasant compliments were cut short 
very unexpectedly. Muriel came flying down 
the path from the road at top speed, breaking 
in on the successful adventurers with the fateful 
announcement: 

“Listen! You’ve got the fire-escape down 
here, and the fire insurance man has just got 
to The Log Cabin this minute to examine it for 
the renewal of the policy!” 

“Good heavens! Where did Jinny get this 
rope?” cried Priscilla, turning pale as she 





KNIGHTS TO THE RESCUE 


155 


gazed at the excellent piece of hemp still dan¬ 
gling into the well. “Not from the top floor?” 

“Yes, and when she was peeling the potatoes 
she heard your mother say that the man would 
be at the house some day soon, and the next 
thing he was there! She ran all the way down 
here to tell, and all the way back so she 
wouldn’t be missed. Your mother is taking him 
over the garage and bam first, so there may be 
time to get the fire-escape back before he gets 
upstairs.’’ 

“Mercy! If we should lose the policy!” 

But before Priscilla could speculate on what 
would happen then, Roger had climbed the tree 
and taken down the rope, and Paul was ex¬ 
claiming : 

* ‘ Come on, boys, let’s beat the insurance-man 
to it!” 

“Some sport!” cried the other four enthusi¬ 
astically, and rushed after the speeding Paul. 

“I’ll go too, and comfort Jinny,” said 
Muriel, also retreating. “She was upset! I 
think Rose and Evelyn and I had all better go 
back now, or people will be wondering where 
we are. I suppose you’ll both be along soon, 
now, that you’ve found the link? How perfectly 
fine that is!” 

“Yes, it was wonderful, and we’ll tell you 
all about it. We’ll be right there, Muriel,” 
said Priscilla hastily. “Dorothy, where had 
we better drag this fragment to, so nobody will 





156 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


find it? By the wall yonder, near the apple- 
tree, where it’s sheltered?” 

“I think,’’ said an icy voice behind the two 
girls, “that I would advise you to drop it back 
into the well! ,, 

Both turned, aghast. On the branch of the 
woodland path that went along the river to the 
White House stood Keith Perrhyn. 




CHAPTER XII 

LADIES TO THE RESCUE 

P RISCILLA was literally panic-stricken 
by the suddenness of Keith ’s appearance 
and the blaze of anger in his eyes. She 
felt that the situation was one which no amount 
of tact could possibly save, and for once was 
completely at a loss to know what to do. Her 
conscience was clear, of course, and she re¬ 
turned Keith’s flashing gaze firmly, but stood 
silent and trembling a few yards from him 
beside the old well-curb. 

To Dorothy’s direct and uncompromising 
nature, however, the situation presented no 
terrors and few problems. She glared back at 
Keith unflinchingly, much more annoyed be¬ 
cause he had frightened Priscilla than because 
he had discovered the operations in the well. 
To his speech she responded promptly: 

“We didn’t ask for your advice. We can, if 
we want it.” The words were very plain- 
spoken, but Dorothy’s manner was merely firm 
and straightforward. 


158 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“What are you two girls doing here?” de¬ 
manded Keith sternly. 

“We are deciding where to put this piece of 
iron, as I think you heard us say,” replied 
Dorothy calmly, touching the fragment with 
her foot. 

“What business have you here, may I ask?” 
continued Keith haughtily. “What do you 
mean by interfering with that .piece of iron? 
What were all those boys down here for? I 
insist-” 

“Now just stop right there!” commanded 
Dorothy firmly. “If you want any information 
you’re entitled to, I’ll give it to you, but I 
won’t be talked to in that tone! I’m not a 
criminal! ’ ’ 

“Oh, Dorothy!” breathed Priscilla implor¬ 
ingly in an undertone. 

Yet Dorothy’s tactics proved to be right, for, 
though Keith was no less angry, he lowered his 
voice, and spoke with more restraint. 

“I saw the boys coming out of the woods, 
from my study window. I came down to see 
what was happening, and was surprised to see 
just you two girls here. Now, will you kindly 
tell me why you have brought that fragment 
of the link up from the well? For that is un¬ 
doubtedly what that piece of iron is, on your 
own confession. I think you will admit that I 
have some rights here.” 

“I will certainly tell you,” returned Dorothy 



LADIES TO THE RESCUE 


159 


succinctly, standing her ground quite undis¬ 
turbed, “but it’s nothing I’m ashamed of, so 
it’s not a confession. "We happen to know that 
it is the wish of Cecily Graham, our friend, 
that the Valley feud shall he healed, and it is 
our wish to mend her fragment of the link, 
if possible, so that her way may be clear toward 
healing the feud.” 

Priscilla took a little courage from Doro¬ 
thy’s calmness, and glanced at her admiringly. 
But if Keith had been angry before, he seemed 
almost furious now, though to Dorothy, who 
watched him curiously, it seemed as if he did 
not appear so angry with her and Priscilla 
as with some idea that remained obscured in 
his mind. He burst forth harshly: 

“Where did you get this nonsensical idea 
about mending the link? Do you not suppose 
that if—Miss Graham—has any such wish as 
you describe, she can fulfill it herself, without 
your help?” 

“No,” answered Dorothy stoutly. “She’s 
bound to keep her word until the link’s 
mended.” 

“Indeed!” commented Keith, opening his 
eyes with a peculiar tinge of sarcasm which 
Priscilla noticed uneasily. But Dorothy was 
so intent on her theme and her task that she 
rushed on unheeding: 

“Yes, indeed! And how could she possibly 
get the broken fragment herself? That’s why 




160 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


we’re helping her. We’re not here for any 
foolish reason.” 

“Opinions might differ on that point!” cried 
Keith hotly. “You cannot possibly justify 
your interference in a matter that does not 
concern you at all. ’ ’ 

“Goodness, do you think we want to inter¬ 
fere in this horrible mess?” ejaculated Doro¬ 
thy, with equal warmth. “Do you think we 
can’t find anything better to do in this heavenly 
country than spend one of our last days here 
poking down an old well? Do you think my 
brother wants to risk breaking all his bones 
fishing up an old battered piece of iron bar? 
If you do, you are much mistaken!” 

Dorothy had evidently forgotten the extreme 
popularity of the “fishing” expedition. But at 
all events, her rhetorical questions sounded im¬ 
pressive, and had the immediate effect of rais¬ 
ing Keith’s pride to the boiling point. 

“I scarcely see why an outsider should char¬ 
acterize my family affairs as a ‘horrible 
mess,’ ” he remarked wrathfully, “nor why 
you should call a valuable Revolutionary relic 
like the Perrhyn link-fragment ‘old and bat¬ 
tered.’ And I most certainly think I am not 
mistaken in saying that it is intolerable for 
little girls to interfere in a local difference of 
opinion with which they have nothing what¬ 
ever to do. It is my judgment, and not yours, 
which ought to decide this question. That piece 



LADIES TO THE RESCUE 


161 


of iron belongs in the well. Stand aside, 
please!” 

“Don’t move, Priscilla!” cried Dorothy, 
snatching up the rope which was still attached 
to the iron crescent, and planting one foot 
firmly on the fragment itself. “ Keith Per- 
rhyn, don’t you dare to touch me, or this piece 
of iron either! It’s not yours! ’’ 

Keith, half-way across the little clearing to 
the iron crescent, halted in utter amazement. 
The Perrhyn fragment not his! Dorothy had 
the instant’s advantage she needed. She leaped 
to the low stone-wall, to the first great branch 
of the apple-tree, she flung the long doubled 
end of the rope over one of the higher branches, 
flung herself into a sitting posture where the 
great branch joined the trunk, and with a vio¬ 
lent exertion, hauled up the iron crescent until 
it dangled in the air several feet above the 
heads of the paralyzed Keith and Priscilla. 

* 1 Good gracious! I didn’t really think I could 
do it,” she announced confidingly, knotting the 
rope around another branch so as to hold the 
fragment safely in position. “You never can 
tell till you try, can you?” 

“I wasn’t going to touch you! Why did you 
get up there that insane way?” demanded 
Keith, highly exasperated. 

“Because,” replied Dorothy, “I will not be 
called a little girl.” 

She gave him an appraising look. 




162 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“ Especially,’ 7 she added, “by a very young 
man. 7 7 

Priscilla giggled in spite of her fright, and 
Keith could perhaps be pardoned for stamping 
his foot. 

“I am sorry to have to point out to a person 
of your high principles, 77 he snapped, ap¬ 
proaching the tree, “that you are keeping from 
me a piece of property which belongs to—well, 
if you are so particular, not directly to me, but 
to my family, and therefore certainly in my 
keeping. You must give me that piece of iron! 77 

“Excuse me. I must not, for two reasons, 77 
declared Dorothy, continuing to sit calmly up 
on the branch, guarding the swaying crescent. 

“Why? 77 demanded Keith angrily. 

“Because, first, you 7 d throw it down the well, 
and because, second, it 7 s not in your keeping. 
It was found on public land, and belongs to me 
as much as to you—more, because I helped 
find it! 77 

“But it 7 s my family property, I tell you! 77 

“There's only one way to prove that, 77 said 
Dorothy quietly. 

“What do you mean? 77 

“See if it fits the other fragment. For all 
we absolutely know, it may just be an odd piece 
of iron. But if it fits the other fragment, it 
must be yours. 77 

“And if it does fit, 77 cried Priscilla beseech¬ 
ingly, gathering courage, “you wouldn't say it 



LADIES TO THE RESCUE 


163 


shouldn’t be joined, would you? Not when the 
other side’s ready to make up? Not when it 
would make everybody in the Valley happy? 
Everybody that looks up to you so much and 
would think all the more of you if you did 
your share toward ending a disagreement you 
couldn’t help and never would have started? 
Keith Perrhyn, you wouldn’t say that?” 

Keith hesitated, baffled at all points. Out¬ 
witted by Dorothy, his better nature appealed 
to by Priscilla, he knew he was in the wrong and 
yet the old strength of the feud bound him to 
his tradition of hatred. Pride was again the 
traitor ready to lose the battle for freedom. 

Dorothy, looking down at him from her perch 
on the bough, suddenly felt all her resentment 
against him die away. The struggle in his face 
touched her generous heart. He was a “lord 
of the manor,” as Helena had said, fighting 
against an evil tradition, yet not quite honest 
enough, as Cecily had been, to cast it bodily 
from him. He was standing with his eyes fixed 
on the ground only a few feet from the apple- 
tree. Dorothy suddenly unknotted the rope 
and gripped it firmly in both hands. Bracing 
herself against the trunk of the tree, she spoke 
down to Keith: 

“Listen, please! I want to let this fragment 
down. It’s all ready to be joined to the other 
one, and Cecily Graham is ready to come half¬ 
way to meet your people in settling this old, 




164 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


old disagreement. That’s more than a fair 
offer.” 

Keith made no reply. 

“Isn’t it more than fair?” persisted Doro¬ 
thy. 

“Well, perhaps. That is, if it’s sincere,” 
said Keith at last. 

“Yon may be sure of that. Look out, now! 
Here goes the link!” 

Down from the tree it slid, rope and all, and 
landed on the ground almost beside Keith. He 
gazed at it intently, but made no move toward 
it. Then Dorothy herself slid to the stone 
wall, jumped to the ground, and stood gazing 
at her companions. No one spoke a word. 

At last Keith said suddenly: 

“What are you going to do with that frag¬ 
ment?” 

“We’ll have to leave it here until we see how 
our plan for joining it turns out,” replied Dor¬ 
othy unhesitatingly. 

“What! You have a plan for joining the 
link?” 

“Yes. And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll start 
something else,” said Dorothy philosophically. 

Keith gave a wan smile, his first that after¬ 
noon. 

“I’m inclined to believe you! ” he said. ‘ ‘ But 
are you going to leave this fragment lying here 
on the ground?” 

“Why, yes. Who would touch it?” 




LADIES TO THE RESCUE 


165 


i ‘Well, don’t you think I might?” 

“Not now,” said Dorothy shrewdly. 

“Why not?” 

“It would be dishonorable. For if a Graham 
is more than fair, a Perrhyn won’t be less!” 

Keith was at last completely routed. The 
faintest expression of relief crossed his face 
and vanished as, without a word, he turned and 
started back down the path to his home. Then 
suddenly he turned back, and said, with some 
difficulty: 

“Some day—you might tell me more—about 
that plan. ’ 9 

He disappeared as soon as the words had 
left his lips, and even had Priscilla and Doro¬ 
thy wished to discuss the painful scene which 
had just ended in victory, they would have had 
no opportunity at the moment. The interview 
with Keith had taken up much longer than had 
been allotted to the search for the iron frag¬ 
ment, and they were being eagerly expected at 
home. Indeed, they had no sooner climbed the 
slope to the road than Helena appeared hasten¬ 
ing toward them. 

“Priscilla, you didn’t come, so I came to 
meet you,” she cried. “Is everything all right? 
We haven’t a great deal of time left if you 
want to go to Cecily’s this afternoon.” 

“You’d both better go right on up the hill,” 
said Dorothy, pointing up the winding road 
that turned off just at this spot. 




166 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Without going home and getting fixed?” 
cried Priscilla. 

“You don’t need to get fixed,” declared 
Helena. 11 Here, take a look at yourself. Here’s 
the prize I got at the party.’ 9 

She produced her little hand-mirror from 
her sweater pocket, and while Priscilla did a 
bit of prinking, Dorothy motioned Helena 
aside, and whispered: 

“Helena, you may have to brace both those 
girls up—I mean Priscilla and Cecily, of 
course. Keith found us with the link-fragment, 
and you were perfectly right about him. We 
did have an awful time for a little while”- 

“Is it all right now?” 

“Yes, I think so. But Priscilla was quite 
shaken up.” 

“I guess you weren’t, though, Dorothy! 
Muriel heard what Keith said to you first, and 
what you replied to him, just as she got to the 
road, and she felt sure you could manage him 
and tore home as fast as she could, and told me 
to get Priscilla and go to Cecily’s at once.” 

“Muriel is one of the cleverest girls I ever 
saw, ’ ’ declared Dorothy. ‘ ‘ She’s right. There’s 
no time to lose, for if we don’t get this link 
mended to-day, I believe Cecily might cool off, 
or Keith would change his mind, or one of their 
fathers would find out what we were doing, and 
stop it. Let’s finish the job this afternoon!” 




LADIES TO THE RESCUE 


167 


“If we can, by all means. Priscilla, aren’t 
you ready yet ?’ 9 

“Yes, if PH do,” sighed Priscilla. “Oh, 
Helena, what about that fire insurance man?” 

Helena’s sober face broke into a wide smile. 

“The boys got to the house with the rope 
just as he was crossing the lawn from the 
garage. I was standing on the veranda. Paul 
called out to me like a flash: ‘Keep still there, 
Helena, and I’ll take your picture!’ and pulled 
out his little vest-pocket camera, and began to 
take it. He maneuvered around and kept the 
man from crossing the lawn, then saw him and 
apologized and said it would take only a second, 
and finally took it. In the meantime Roger had 
slipped upstairs the back way with the rope, 
and with Eliot, who showed him where to tie 
it, so when the man got upstairs everything was 
in order. Virginia does always fall on her feet, 
somehow! ’ ’ 

“I hope we have some of her luck!” cried 
Priscilla, as Dorothy waved good-by, to the 
other girls, who started up the hill. “Iam glad 
you’re going with me, Helena, for really, I 
don’t know how Cecily will take this proposal.” 

“I’m glad to be your little moral support,” 
returned Helena playfully, remembering Dor¬ 
othy’s injunction to “brace up” her friend, 
“but of course you’ll want to see Cecily alone. 
I’ll wait for you in the road, just outside the 
gateway.” 




168 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“Oh, no!” 

“Yes,” said Helena firmly, “Cecily isn’t go¬ 
ing to talk about her affairs before me, Pris¬ 
cilla. Don’t believe that for one second. If 
you can’t persuade her, no one can. I’ll be on 
hand to be useful, and maybe it’ll help you to 
know someone’s nearby if needed, but that’s 
as far as I’d better go.” 

So, according to Helena’s wise decision, it 
came about that Priscilla entered the gate of 
the Gray House alone, and saw Cecily standing 
at the far end of the garden on the cliff above 
the road. She was covering some delicate 
bushes with straw in anticipation of an early 
frost, and called gayly to Priscilla to come and 
admire her work. 

“Oh, Cecily,” cried Priscilla, speeding down 
the garden buoyed up with hope and yet 
trembling with fear, “are you—are you very 
busy?” 

“No, I’ve just finished,” replied Cecily, knot¬ 
ting the last bunch of straw into place. 
“What’s up?” 

“Just this,” answered Priscilla, feeling that 
the best thing to do in the circumstances was 
to be perfectly direct and simple. “I thought 
I’d tell you that I think there’s a way for you 
to do what you said you’d like to, night before 
last. There’s a chance to heal the Valley feud 
honorably.” 

“Now?” cried Cecily, in a tone in which 




LADIES TO THE RESCUE 


169 


amazement, relief and fear were mingled. 

44 To-day.'' 

44 Priscilla, what do you mean?" 

4 4 We've found the Perrhyn fragment of the 
link-" 

4 4 Good gracious! Where ?' ' 

4 4 In the old Bailey well. Eliot and some of 
his friends who are camping at Lake Nanaukee 
came to luncheon to-day, and they helped Dor¬ 
othy's brother Paul climb down the well and 
found the old piece of iron." 

44 He didn't go down on my account?" cried 
Cecily, aghast. 

44 Why not? Anyway, we have the fragment 
down in the woods, and we thought you could 
get Bill Bailey to weld it to your piece, and 
then the link would be joined—don't you see?" 

Cecily did see, instantly. She stood rooted to 
the ground, staring at Priscilla, and her breath 
began to come in gasps. Priscilla, alarmed, 
fearing that she had been but a clumsy ambas¬ 
sador, and that Cecily's gasps might be over¬ 
heard in the house, hurried on: 

44 I hope you don't think we're interfer¬ 
ing-" 

44 Interfering? I'm so grateful to you I can 
hardly speak!" cried Cecily at last, chokingly. 
“I'll never forget this as long as I live." 

4 4 Then you '11 try the plan ?'' 

44 Gladly! It is wonderful, and it would be 
the height of ingratitude not to try it. So the 




170 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


fragments are ready, and one is in the woods, 
you say? Well, there’s the other.” 

Cecily pointed to a black iron object set in 
the garden, almost on the edge of the cliff, and 
Priscilla recognized a link of the old chain at 
once, though about one-third of it had been 
broken off across the top. 

1 ‘ The hard thing to do will be to get word 
to Bill,” said Cecily reflectively. 

“Can you telephone him?” 

“I might be overheard. I can’t go to the 
iron-works, either, for I have to wait here for 
Archie and Frances Hurd to get back. They’re 
out with the car. Oh, dear!” cried Cecily 
nervously, “I don’t think this is going to be 
easy at all. ’ ’ 

“I’ll tell you what,” suggested Priscilla, 
growing courageous as she saw Cecily’s need 
of support, “we can ask Helena to go. She’s 
waiting outside the gate. And I’ll stay with 
you here, if you’d like company.” 

“All right,” agreed Cecily. 

Priscilla, feeling that all was settled but 
details, for Cecily would never go back on her 
word, flew to the gate to summon Helena. 

“She says she’ll do it!” she breathed in 
Helena’s ear as the two hurried back to the 
edge of the cliff. 

“Good for her! And good for you, Priscilla! 
I knew you could do the job of persuading her.” 

“Girls, I’ll never forget what you all have 



LADIES TO THE RESCUE 


171 


done for me as long as I live!” cried Cecily, as 
they rejoined her. “I might never have had a 
chance to heal the Valley fend, but for you. 
And now, I’m going to try. Somebody has got 
to stop it, that’s all. I’ll take the consequences. 
Only, I do wonder what my father will say 
when he finds the link mended?” 

“He can’t say much after it’s done, can he?” 
suggested Helena, gently, playing her part as 
“bracer” with a light touch. 

“I hope not,” answered Cecily, with the 
ghost of a smile. “Now, Helena, will you take 
Bill a message for me? Wait until he’s leaving 
the works at five o’clock, tell him what has been 
done, so he’ll understand the situation, and 
ask him, please, for my sake, to be ready to 
mend the l ink sometime this evening, as early 
as possible. Find out what he thinks would 
be a good time, and telephone me. Then when 
the car comes back, Priscilla and I will bring 
this fragment down to the works.” 

“What about the other piece?” 

“Ask Dorothy to be ready when you tele¬ 
phone, and then you and she get that piece 
and wait with it by the road, for the car. I’ll 
tell you when to be there.” 

“That’s easy, Helena,” said Priscilla. “The 
fragment is down just below this in the woods.” 

She pointed over the cliff, and as the girls 
followed the direction of her hand, the green 
and purple weather-cock on the Perrhyn house 




172 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


tower, which was plainly visible from the gar¬ 
den, spun sharply around. 

“A change of weather ?” suggested Helena. 

To the girls’ astonishment, Cecily herself 
spun sharply around on her heel, and gazed at 
them. What could those innocent words have 
brought back to her? 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” she gasped, recover¬ 
ing herself, 4i but I hope—not rain!” 




CHAPTER XIII 

HOLD, LINK ! BREAK, SPELL ! 


ELL me again what Bill Bailey said, 
Helena.” 



A “First he said: 4 Some stunt. 1 And 
then he said : 4 Some brains. ’ And then he said: 
‘Count me in!’ ” 

“We’ve had wonderful luck so far, and Bill’s 
our biggest piece of it! But why did he say 
half-past five at the works? Isn’t that early?” 

“Yes, and how we did have to rush to get 
here! But you see we do have to take some 
risk, Dorothy, and it’s the best time because a 
few of the men will still be around, so Bill 
won’t be noticed especially. And everybody 
leaves the welding-shed at five. How suddenly 
it gets dark in this valley! The sun falls over 
the edge of the cliff, and it’s the middle of the 
night!” 

“Never mind, I hear the car now.” Dorothy 
rose from her perch on a log near the edge of 
the woods, at the turn in the road. “Hello! 
We’re right here, Cecily.” 


173 


174 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


Cecily brought the car to a halt, as Dorothy 
stepped out before her. 

‘‘Have you got it?” she asked in a low, un¬ 
steady voice, full of excitement. 

“Yes, here it is. Priscilla, will you help us 
lift it into the car?” begged Dorothy. “It’s 
heavy. Cecily, don’t you want to light your 
lamps?” 

“Of course! I forgot all about them,” con¬ 
fessed Cecily, snapping them on. “Here, girls, 
I’ll get out and help you, too.” 

Priscilla and Helena seized the rope and 
dragged the link-fragment toward the rear of 
the car as Cecily started to get out, and Doro¬ 
thy was just following them when her eye 
caught the flicker of a tiny flame far up above 
the trees. The next moment the flicker had 
become a steady glow. Keith had lighted the 
lamp in his study. She could recognize the 
outline of his figure in the window of the square 
tower that loomed dark against the evening 
sky. He approached the window to draw the 
blind, and stopped. 

She could not see his face, but Dorothy in¬ 
stantly understood that he must have noticed 
the light from the automobile lamps. The last 
words she had heard him speak shot through 
her brain: 1 1 Some day you might tell me more 
about that plan.” On a sudden impulse, Doro¬ 
thy stepped deliberately forward into the full 
light of the lamps, raised her hand, beckoned 




HOLD, LINK! BREAK, SPELL! 175 


to him several times, and pointed down the 
road toward Brockway. Then she dashed to 
the rear of the car, calling: 

“Look out! Don’t drop that link, Priscilla! 
We’d better all lift it.” 

The whole incident flashed past so quickly 
that she was in plenty of time to help land the 
link safely in the tonneau of the car, where 
Priscilla kept a careful watch over it during 
the drive. At The Log Cabin, Helena slipped 
off, for her task now was to allay any anxiety 
that might arise in case Priscilla and Dorothy 
should reach home late for supper. Then the 
car, with its precious burden and three anxious 
occupants, sped along the road to Brockway, 
over the bridge, and stopped quietly beside the 
welding-shed. 

But quietly as the car stopped, Bill heard it, 
for he was waiting just inside the door, and 
came quickly out to meet them. He raised his 
finger warningly, and said in a low whisper: 

“Better not talk out here. There’s no one 
in the shed, but there are two or three men in 
the office, three doors down.” 

Cecily nodded, and pointed to the iron frag¬ 
ments. Bill picked up the larger one without 
another word, and the quartet went silently 
into the welding-shed, the three girls carrying 
the Perrhyn fragment. 

As well as could be seen by the one light 
which Bill had kept burning, it was a high, 





176 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


spacious room with a concrete floor and wide 
windows rising nearly to the ceiling. Three 
anvils and several metal-topped work tables 
could be seen, and fragments of broken ma¬ 
chinery—wheels, cylinders, crank-shafts—were 
piled on the floor, ready to be mended. 

Without further speech, Bill snapped on the 
light above his anvil, and placed the two pieces 
of iron on it. Four anxious faces bent above 
the broken link. Bill took the small piece and 
held it across the shattered portion of the Gra¬ 
ham fragment. Time had worn the edges of 
both portions smooth, here and there tiny bits 
had been chipped out of the bar so that the 
joining was not perfectly smooth, yet the lines 
of the outer and inner sides of the two pieces 
agreed exactly in forming a complete and ad¬ 
mirably-shaped link. The iron crescent sal¬ 
vaged from the well was, without doubt, the 
original Perrhyn fragment. 

“It fits!” said Dorothy in a low tone of ex¬ 
ultation, and as the words left her lips a step 
was heard on the walk outside, and the next 
moment Keith walked boldly into the welding- 
shed. He took off his hat with a brief nod, his 
eyes fell on the anvil and its burden. He stared 
at Bill, and the whole plan lay plain before him. 

Cecily stood motionless, her gaze on the link. 
She gave no sign that she knew of Keith’s pres¬ 
ence. The two other girls glanced anxiously 
from Keith to Bill, and took renewed con- 




HOLD, LINK! BREAK, SPELL! 


177 


fidence, for Bill, though younger than Keith, in 
humble position, and about to act, for any¬ 
thing he knew, quite contrary to his friend’s 
wishes, had pierced Keith with a look that 
settled forever the matter of joining the link. 
Bill, it seemed, hoped that Keith viewed the 
question in the same light that he did, but at 
all events, he was this time entirely on Cecily’s 
side! 

Keith made no further move of any sort. He 
stood waiting for whatever was to come. So 
did the three girls. But Bill went swiftly into 
action. 

He snatched a thick blue denim coat from a 
hook on the wall, and buttoned it tightly on 
himself up to his neck. He clamped the two 
pieces of the link firmly to the anvil in such a 
position that they met as exactly as possible. 
He ran to a dark corner and unlimbered yards 
and yards of electric cord to the end of which 
was attached a curious instrument shaped like 
a torch. This he carried across the room and 
placed on his anvil. From a case he selected a 
long, thin wire, perhaps two feet in length, 
and this he clamped into one end of his torch. 
He then donned a thick pair of enormous 
leather gauntlets, and finally a large leather 
mask, which not only covered his whole head 
but his shoulders as well, and having red glass 
goggles set in it, caused him to present an ap¬ 
pearance between that of an aviator and a 



178 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


diver. He then picked up his torch and ad¬ 
dressed the company: 

“Pm going to turn on the current now and 
weld this link. Keep back and don’t watch the 
flame too steadily, or it may blind you.” 

The company humbly moved back, the girls 
behind Bill, Keith to the opposite side of the 
room not far from the door. 

Bill pressed an electric button, and with a 
snapping, sputtering red flame, the iron pencil 
in the torch began to melt as he held it above 
the crevice between the two parts of the old 
link. The light was truly brighter than the 
eye could bear steadily, but by stealing a glance 
how and then the anxious girls could see what 
Bill’s skill was bringing to pass. Consumed by 
the electric current, the wire pencil slowly 
melted and transferred itself to fill out the 
crevice, while at the same time, by the same 
force, the edges of the crevice itself were turned 
into molten iron and the old and new metal 
mingled together in one mass. Up and down 
the sides of the iron bar went Bill’s torch, held 
in a practiced hand. Layer by layer, the fill¬ 
ing of the crevice grew. Finally the crevice 
was closed, the two broken fragments of the old 
link were indistinguishably united, a perfect 
iron link appeared before the awe-struck eyes 
of the watchers. The long broken link of the 
Grahams and Perrhyns was joined again! 

Bill turned off the current, and with a long- 




HOLD, LINK! BREAK, SPELL! 


179 


drawn sigh, for the heat to which he had been 
exposed was almost unendurable, pulled his 
helmet from a scarlet and perspiring counte¬ 
nance. Priscilla and Dorothy glanced breath¬ 
lessly from Cecily to Keith, to see if there 
would not be a thrilling reconciliation at this 
moment of the Graham and Perrhyn clans, so 
long asunder, when, alas for happy endings, a 
dark shadow fell on the floor through the door¬ 
way, and the tall, stern form of Mr. Graham 
appeared on the threshold. 

“What’s this?” he demanded. “Bailey, 
what are you doing here after hours? Cecily! 
What does this mean? What are these 
girls-” 

His words stopped short. He had seen 
Keith, and the next second his glance fell on 
the great link lying on the anvil. 

Cecily instantly stepped forward with a firm 
tread. She looked as stern as her father. 

“Father,” she announced, “the link is 
joined.” 

That was all she said, but it was clear that a 
battle between those two strong minds was 
joined also. It would have to be fought out. 
Mr. Graham spoke: 

“Cecily, is this your doing?” He pointed to 
the link. 

“Yes, father.” 

“Did you have a piece of iron made to com¬ 
plete our fragment?” 



180 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


4 ‘No. The original piece was recovered from 
the old Bailey well.” 

“By whom?” 

“By some devoted friends of mine, unknown 
to me.” 

“And yon connived at such interference in 
our affairs, and, without consulting me, secretly 
had this link mended?” 

“Father, I made no attempt to deceive you,” 
said Cecily steadily. “Yes, I had the link 
mended. It was my own free action.” 

“How did you dare?” demanded her father. 

“Because I did not dare to let the feud con¬ 
tinue any longer! It was unworthy of any of 
us that it should go on.” 

Cecily spoke so inflexibly that Mr. Graham 
was checked an instant. The next second, how¬ 
ever, he had turned on Bill. 

“Bailey! Is this your work?” 

“Yes, sir, it is,” replied Bill respectfully and 
firmly. 

“How did you come to interfere in my af¬ 
fairs ? ’ * 

“I asked him to weld the link,” cried Cecily 
quickly, before Bill could have replied even had 
he intended to, “and he did not interfere.” 

“It is enough that he did it. Your work here 
is over, Bailey.” 

Cecily was thoroughly aroused this time. She 
rushed forward and seized her father by the 
arm. 



HOLD, LINK! BREAK, SPELL! 


181 


‘ 1 Father/’ she cried with a sternness that she 
had got nowhere hut from Mr. Graham him¬ 
self, “do not say that! I cannot possibly have 
Bill suffer for something I did, and it is not a 
bit like you to be so unjust. Forgive me, but 
you are unjust, and more so than you know. 
You owe Bill, as I do, this opportunity before 
us now to end this contemptible, foolish, bitter 
quarrel between ourselves and the Perrhyns, 
and end it honorably, forever. Yes—that’s ex¬ 
actly what I think of it! You’ll never get me 
to be proud of anything that’s bad!” 

Mr. Graham had certainly met his match for 
force in his own daughter, and was staring 
down at her, considerably shaken by her attack, 
when, before he could attempt a reply, in 
through the door rushed a fussy-looking elderly 
gentleman in a neat gray suit and the latest 
thing in soft felt hats, who cried jovially, all in 
one breath: 

“Bless me, how lucky I am, Graham! I 
thought you had gone! You see, I was just 
passing with—with another member of the 
school board—and they asked me, as treasurer, 
at our meeting this afternoon, to interview you 
in order to find out whether you wouldn’t re¬ 
consider—bless my soul! Excuse me, am I 
interrupting you?” 

“You will perhaps defer this interview until 
a more convenient season, Mr. Wolcott,” ob¬ 
served Mr. Graham majestically, as the unfor- 





182 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


tunate fussy gentleman, in utter consternation, 
took in the remarkable scene before him. 

‘ 1 Certainly—of course !” agreed Mr. Wol¬ 
cott willingly, retreating discreetly and rap¬ 
idly to the door. His hasty footsteps sounded 
an instant on the walk, and then came his voice 
again: 

“Good heavens, Perrhyn! I believe it’s my 
duty to tell you your son’s in there!” 

There was a rushing noise that sounded, as 
Dorothy said afterwards, exactly like the Valley 
windstorm on the night the Tale of the Valley 
was told, and in dashed the redoubtable Mr. 
Evan Perrhyn, tall and stout, bluff and red¬ 
faced, his hair on end and his gray eyes ablaze. 
Keith stepped boldly forward and met him al¬ 
most at the door. 

“What are you doing here, sir?” demanded 
his father, almost choking with outraged aston¬ 
ishment. 

“I have been watching Bill do a piece of 
welding,” replied Keith calmly, and waved his 
hand in the direction of the anvil. 

Mr. Perrhyn, in one glance, took in the busi¬ 
ness-like Bill and his torch, the link, Mr. Gra¬ 
ham and Cecily. 

“What’s that?” he cried, pointing to the 
link. “Do you mean to say that a Perrhyn has 
been conspiring with his family’s enemies to 
do that?" 

“I had absolutely nothing to do with the 



HOLD, LINK! BREAK, SPELL! 183 


mending of the old link, father,’ : ’ said Keith 
respectfully but unyieldingly. “It was done 
by much better people than I am.’’ 

“What? Explain this!” Thunder and 
lightning sounded and flashed in the older 
man ’s tone and look. 

“This link has been joined again as the first 
step in the reconciliation which I hope is going: 
to take place between our family and the Gra¬ 
hams,” replied Keith, steadily returning his 
angry father’s gaze. “The other side has 
taken the first step, father. Can we do less 
than take the second?” 

“You mean that I, as the head of your house, 
should apologize to the other side, after the 
insults that other head of our house suffered 
seventy years ago?” 

“After all, even if he did suffer them, it was 
seventy years ago!” Keith pointed out this 
undeniable fact with a faint tinge of humor 
which came as a relief to most of his witnesses, 
but not his father. 

“Do you mean to say you have no sense of 
honor?” cried Mr. Perrhyn in consternation. 

“I have a very keen one!” retorted Keith 
firmly, determined to end the quarrel then and 
there. “An obligation now rests on both of us; 
it is the obligation to keep our pledge.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“ ‘I and mine will speak to you and yours— 
when that link is joined again!’ ” quoted Keith 





184 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


triumphantly. “It was a Perrhyn who said 
that!” 

Mr. Perrhyn looked discomfited. He fidgeted 
slightly, glared at the link lying innocently on 
the anvil, at the passive Bill, at Priscilla and 
Dorothy, whom he now noticed for the first time 
in a corner, but he made no move even to turn 
toward Mr. Graham. The latter, for his part, 
remained in frozen silence, standing close be¬ 
side Cecily. She realized the deadlock between 
the older men, and suddenly faced Keith with 
a look of mingled desperation and hope. 

He saw it, and responded swiftly. He walked 
quickly toward her, and suddenly put out his 
hand. 

“Miss Graham,” he said, “I hope we may be 
friends.” 

“Gladly!” cried Cecily instantly, and gave 
him her hand. He pressed it respectfully, re¬ 
linquished it, and waited an instant, as if ex¬ 
pecting Mr. Graham to speak to him. But Mr. 
Graham, astonished at his daughter's action, 
merely murmured, as if thunderstruck: 

“Cecily! How lightly you give up a family 
tradition ! 9 9 

“Father, I give it up only after a long 
struggle,” declared Cecily earnestly. “And I 
am going to tell the truth further, since so hon¬ 
orable an enemy is now, happily, our friend. 
This act of my speaking to a Perrhyn is really 





HOLD, LINK! BREAK, SPELL! 


185 


just the official ending of the old quarrel—I 
broke my word as a Graham long ago!’ 9 

“Oh, don’t!” cried Keith in consternation, 
seeing the surprise and anguish that spread 
over Mr. Graham’s face, and the complete as¬ 
tonishment of all Cecily’s hearers. “What’s 
the use of saying that?” 

“You know it already,” replied Cecily 
calmly. “Would you think well of me if I con¬ 
cealed it under our official settlement?” She 
turned to her father. “I met Mr. Keith Per- 
rhyn at a dance I attended in New York last 
winter. Neither of us recognized the other for 
some time. I had been away at school, he at 
college, for several years. I did not catch his 
name when he was introduced to me, and our 
name is a common one, and of course he never 
thought of meeting me at a friend’s house. We 
talked quite a while, then suddenly he recog¬ 
nized the crest on my ring, and we at once sep¬ 
arated. I am sure he always thought I made 
him speak to me—for he spoke first—in order 
to tease him and make him break his word. I 
have never been able to do anything to take 
away that impression, which gave me as much 
anxiety as the fact that I had broken my word. 
I met him again in the woods the day I first 
learned that the friends to whom I was to owe 
so much were coming to visit at The Log Cabin 
—again at the Haunted House. He still 
thought me a dishonorable enemy. I could not 



186 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


stand that—an enemy I might have to be, but 
a faithless one, never!—and so I caused the 
link to be joined again, in the hope both of heal¬ 
ing the Valley feud and proving my sincerity. ,, 

Cecily ceased. Keith, his face aflame, his 
pride completely vanquished by her generosity, 
burst forth impetuously: 

“Miss Cecily, I humbly ask your forgiveness! 
You are far more honorable than I, and I real¬ 
ized that when, from my study window, I saw 
that your car was taking the broken fragments 
of our link toward Brockway. I could only fol¬ 
low you here, and do my share of apologizing. 
But there’s one thing more I can say, and now 
I will 1 I can’t be outdone by you! Miss Cecily, 
the word you say you broke was never meant to 
be kept!” 

‘ ‘ What do you mean ? ’ ’ cried Cecily. 

“I believe,” answered Keith solemnly, “that 
my great-grandfather never wanted this feud!” 

“You do!” cried Cecily rapturously. “Well, 
neither did mine!” 

“Keith, explain yourself!” commanded Mr. 
Perrhyn, utterly bewildered. 

“Don’t you remember, father, how great¬ 
grandfather Perrhyn used to sit up in the 
tower he built, looking at the Graham garden 
on the cliff? He died when I was four years 
old, but I remember one day asking what he 
looked at all day long. He said: ‘See that 
black, broken ring against the sky?’—he meant 




HOLD, LINK! BREAK, SPELL! 


187 


the old link standing in the garden, of course— 
‘Pve been watching that for forty years, be¬ 
cause I hope that some day it will grow 
round!’ ” 

‘ ‘ Wait, wait!’’ broke in Cecily. ‘ 1 My grand¬ 
father Graham told me often what a wonder¬ 
ful weather prophet his father had been. He 
used to walk all the time, in his later life, on 
our cliff, near the link, and watch the weather¬ 
cock on the Perrhyn tower. And grandfather 
said he would frequently stand still looking at 
it, and say: ‘I’m hoping for a change of 
weather !’ ” 

‘‘ Then my ancestor built the tower in hopes 
that he might see the quarrel settled, and yours 
must have placed his link in the garden and 
walked there daily for the same reason! And 
each of them was just a little too proud to come 
forward and make up ! 1 y 

“Pm so glad,” said Cecily with a quaint, 
mischievous smile at Keith, “that you’re not 
proud!” 

Keith’s face relaxed into a faint smile, but 
Bill’s, as he heard Cecily’s speech, broke into 
its normal grin, and Bill’s chuckle leaped un¬ 
controllably across his anvil and resounded on 
the wall of the welding-shed. Cecily laughed, 
Priscilla and Dorothy shook with mirth, and 
finally Keith, like a good sportsman, roared 
with laughter at his own expense. It was too 
much for Mr. Graham and Mr. Perrhyn. Ce- 




188 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


cily’s little joke, coming on top of the young 
people’s discovery that the whole feud was a 
seventy-year-old mistake, routed all their 
fierceness and bluster. Caught in the same con¬ 
fusion, they instinctively turned to one another. 
Mr. Graham spoke first: 

“Mr. Perrhyn, it seems as if perhaps the 

young people might be right-” 

“Mr. Graham, they are right! Will you 
shake hands, sir ? ’ 9 

The famous Valley feud was ended! 





CHAPTER XIV 

THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAT 

I DON’T want to go home to-morrow,” 
mourned Virginia. “It’s stupid at 
home! There aren’t any feuds there. I 
never had so much fun as we’ve had fixing this 
feud. Isn’t everything lovely now it’s fixed?” 

“ Yes, I never had such a thrilling time in my 
life! I wonder if anything will be exciting 
again?” cried Dorothy, who was helping Pris¬ 
cilla dust the living-room in time to Helena’s 
piano-playing in the library. 

“Never mind, Jinny, we don’t have to think 
of sad things, like not having feuds, this morn¬ 
ing,” said Priscilla comfortingly. “We’re in¬ 
vited to Cecily’s this afternoon, and she’ll give 
us a glorious time, I’m sure. There! I guess 
this room is clean enough to do. Come on, let’s 
get the other girls and go into the woods after 
chestnuts. Father thinks there may be some 
after the first frost last night.” 

“Oh, what fun! But let’s wait until Evelyn 
posts up The Constellation,” suggested Helena. 

189 


190 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“She’s been working on it very hard, and says 
it’s nearly ready.” 

Almost as she spoke, Evelyn came racing 
downstairs with two large sheets of paper, 
which, instead of being written neatly out in 
Evelyn’s own pretty, flowing hand, as had been 
the case with previous issues of that powerful 
organ The Log Cabin Constellation> looked like 
paper patchwork. Scraps of paper of various 
colors and sizes, covered with many kinds of 
handwriting, were stuck to the two large sheets, 
which Evelyn proceeded to tack up over the 
fireplace. 

“Two sheets? What’s this?” asked Vir¬ 
ginia, beginning to read. 

“Final edition and comic supplement,” ex¬ 
plained Evelyn with a pleased smile. She left 
the other girls to enjoy it near the pleasant fire, 
and started toward the piazza. But no sooner 
had she reached the doorway than she turned 
back, saying to Priscilla: 

“Cecily’s coming up the walk! And that 
Mr. Hurd is with her.” 

“I suppose she had to bring him along for 
some reason or other,” remarked Priscilla, evi¬ 
dently trying to be charitable while recollec¬ 
tions of Archie’s conversation in the Haunted 
House still lingered in her mind. 

However, she greeted both Cecily and her 
cousin very hospitably, as did the others. 
Archie seemed glad to see the fire, near which 



THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 191 


he took a seat at once, but Cecily, in spite of 
the cold morning, was glowing with exercise, 
and sat down on the sofa with Priscilla on one 
side and Virginia on the other. 

“We’ve just been to the school this morning 
to speak to the teacher about an entertainment 
—oh, I ’ll tell you about that afterwards! ’ ’ she 
began. “Honestly, I am so happy and excited 
I can’t even talk coherently! But I came to 
tell you something that just won’t wait until I 
see you this afternoon: the most wonderful 
thing is going to happen to Bill Bailey!” 

“Well, he deserves it!” cried Dorothy. 
“What is it?” 

“He’s going to West Point!” 

“Not really? How perfectly splendid!” 
cried the three girls. 

“Hurrah for General William Trenholm 
Bailey, the hero of Highland Pass!” remarked 
Archie, rising and examining The Constella¬ 
tion, much to Evelyn’s confusion. “Mind if I 
take out this thumb-tack if I put it back in the 
same hole?” 

“No, please make yourself at home,” begged 
Priscilla, and Archie sat down to read the local 
newspaper at leisure. “But tell us all about 
Bill, Cecily.” 

“Father and Mr. Perrhyn are going to have 
him sent,” continued Cecily. “Girls, they’re 
just as glad as I am that our old trouble is over. 
Father found out that Bill has always wanted 




192 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


to go to the Military Academy, and has kept 
on studying ever since he had to leave school to 
work, in the hope that he might some day get 
the chance to go. And Keith Perrhyn has been 
helping him with his French and other things / 9 

“That’s why Keith spent so much time 
studying in his tower,* ’ cried Priscilla. * ‘ He ’s 
a good friend/ * 

* ‘ Keith is lovely. I always said so, ’ ’ declared 
Virginia. 

“Well, both Father and Mr. Perrhyn think 
Bill is just the sort of boy that ought to get a 
chance to do something big,” went on Cecily, 
with a merry glance at Virginia, “and they are 
both very grateful to him for the job he did, 
and are going to help him get his chance. 
Father will ask our congressman to give Bill 
the nomination for West Point from this dis¬ 
trict for next year. These appointments are 
generally given a year ahead of admission to 
the academy, and Bill needs a year more study, 
anyway, to make him ready to pass all the ex¬ 
aminations.” 

“Will he go to school?” asked Helena. 

“Yes. Mr. Perrhyn is sending him, and he 
goes next week. His mother will be paid his 
wages until he can support her. Father is do¬ 
ing that,” said Cecily fondly, “and Mr. Per¬ 
rhyn is paying for the schooling.” 

“I expect Bill is just standing on his head 
all day long now! ’* cried Priscilla. 




THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 193 


“The whole village is doing that, my dear! 
Congratulations have just rained down on us— 
on the Perrhyns, too—ever since Tuesday 
morning. You know nobody’s business is pri¬ 
vate in a place like this, and all the inhabitants 
of Highland Pass are as happy as the Grahams 
and the Perrhyns. And as for Bill! Archie’s 
right. Bill is the hero of Highland Pass. 
There! I’m back to it at last: that’s what we 
had to see the school teacher about.” 

‘‘Now you’ve got to the really important 
point,” said young Mr. Hurd with great solem¬ 
nity. “The entertainment, you know, Cousin 
Cecily.” 

“Exactly, Archie! Girls, the people in the 
village, who have known Bill since he was born, 
are all so overcome with pride that a Bailey 
did the act which finally settled the quarrel 
which originally started over another Bailey, 
that they are going to present him with his full 
school outfit! To raise all the money they can, 
they are holding a grand jubilation and enter¬ 
tainment in the school-house to-night. The 
teacher is running it, and we had to see her 
because we’ve been invited to perform.” 

“Cecily’s going to give an exhibition of 
whistling stunts,” explained her cousin. 

“But Archie and his wife are going to be the 
life of the party,” announced Cecily gener¬ 
ously. “They will render an international pro- 




194 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


gram of fancy dances: Scotch reels, Brazilian 
whirls, Italian spins-” 

<<We’re sure to be a whizz,” admitted Archie 
modestly. 

“And the teacher is most anxious for the 
girls who really caused the jubilation to per¬ 
form, too. I said I was sure you all could, and 
would. Now, don’t disappoint me!” 

“Oh, we’d love to!” cried Priscilla. “But 
to-night -” 

“Short notice, I know. But you told me 
about the entertainments you gave last winter. 
And I thought you were supposed to be a dra¬ 
matic club?” suggested Cecily with sweet im¬ 
pertinence. 

“I’ve thought of something!” shrieked Vir¬ 
ginia suddenly, and with the utmost ardor. 
“But I won’t tell anybody but Cecily! If she 
says it’s good, I’ll tell everybody.” 

Cecily and Virginia at once sought the dining¬ 
room for a private conversation, and on return¬ 
ing found that the rest of the girls, who had 
wandered into the living-room in search of 
Priscilla, had stayed to hear Virginia’s forth¬ 
coming proposal. 

“Oh, girls, it’s awfully good!” cried Cecily. 
“Hurry, Jinny, don’t keep them waiting.” 

“Well,” said Virginia slowly, overcome by a 
most inconvenient and unprecedented bash¬ 
fulness, “I just happened—to think—that we 




THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 195 


might—dramatize The Constellation and give 
it like a vaudeville show!” 

Was it possible that Virginia of the Ac¬ 
cidents, Risks, and Perils could have saved the 
day? Yes, not only possible, but a fact, and, 
as the girls admitted it with a generous tribute 
of applause and cheers, Archie’s voice rose 
above the noise, with a note of real authority 
in it: 

“Actually, that’s a new idea! First rate, 
too. Want any help ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, if you do, let Archie help you, girls!” 
cried Cecily. “He’s really a wonderful am¬ 
ateur actor—has been, too, for about two- 
thirds of a long and well-spent life, haven’t you, 
Archie?” 

“That’s me,” admitted her cousin. 

“You’re very kind, Mr. Hurd,” said Pris¬ 
cilla. “If it isn’t too much trouble we should 
appreciate your help very much.” 

“All right,” returned Archie genially, “the 
pleasure will be mine. Now, how do you want 
to start dramatizing this mighty sheet, which I 
have perused with so much profit and pleas¬ 
ure?” 

“Why, some of us haven’t perused it at all 
yet,” confessed Priscilla. “It’s right off the 
press! I tell you what: you read it to us, Mr. 
Hurd, and while you’re reading we’ll think of 
ways to dramatize it.” 

“Excellent!” declared Archie, and proceeded 
to read aloud the following production: 





196 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


THE LOG CABIN CONSTELLATION 
Final Edition, including Comic Supplement 


EDITORIAL 

The editor congratulates her¬ 
self on this splendid edition 
of THE CONSTELLATION, 
and in gratitude for the 
assistance so graciously ren¬ 
dered prints the authors’ 

FULL NAMES IN 
CAPITALS! 

* * * * 

THE IRON LOVER 

A Serial Story 
Complete in One Issue 

Chapter I 
By Muriel Ives 

Long ago, the beautiful 
Princess Gushia lived in a 
medieval castle in Europe. 

To ail her suitors, she de¬ 
clared her hand would he be¬ 
stowed only on him who pos¬ 
sessed the three qualities she 
most admired in man: 

An iron will 

An iron heart 

An iron hand in a velvet 
glove. 

Most of the suitors said: 

“Awfully ironical girl, hey? 

Let’s marry somebody else! ” 

And they all did, except 

Prince Ramrod, and he said: 

“Well, I’ll show her!” 

The question was, How? 


A wise hermit who lived un¬ 
der a rock (a hollow one), ad¬ 
vised him that there was lots 
of iron in the Ramapos. So 
the Prince took passage at 
once on the fastest liner, and 
soon arrived in Brockway. 

(To he continued) 

* * * * 

NEWS 

EXTRA SPORTING! 

Recently Mr. Rufus Cleve¬ 
land invited nine girls to go 
fishing with him. All ac¬ 
cepted. 

The affair was one of the 
most brilliant of the season, 
everybody being allowed two 
full cups of coffee because it 
was outdoors in the middle of 
the day. 

Miss Aline Gaines was cited 
for gallantry and devotion in 
volunteering to wash the fry¬ 
ing-pan. 

Miss Joyce Barry donned 
rubber boots and waded out 
into the Ramapo, and not only 
did she not get drowned, but 
she fished out a superb tin 
match-box. It was empty, but 
anyhow Fortune favors the 
Bold. 

Unfortunately such conflict¬ 
ing claims are made by vari¬ 
ous individuals regarding 
the number and size of fish 
caught, that THE CONSTEL¬ 
LATION, which prints only 





THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 197 


strictly accurate news, cannot 
give any statistics! 

(Reported by HELENA 
HAWTHORNE, who did catch 
the biggest, so there, and 
DOROTHY STONE, who 
never said she did, once.) 

* * * * 

THE THICK OF THE 
DARK PRINCESS 

A Highland Pass 
Legend 

by 

PRISCILLA CLEVELAND 

On Bald Torne once lived 
an Indian Princess who owned 
a headband of jewels that 
shone only in the dark. They 
were her tribal totem. To ex¬ 
pose them to sunlight would 
cause her tribe to lose its 
power. 

Captured in war, the Dark 
Princess, as she was known, 
was ordered by her enemies to 
flash the jewels in the sun. 
She agreed to, if she might 
kneel when she exposed the 
sacred totem. 

THE LOG CABIN 
THE IRON LOVER 
Chapter II 
By Virginia Gaines 

A committee of leading citi¬ 
zens of Brockway welcomed 


At the hour set she came 
into a field where were cap- 
tors at one end and prisoners 
at the other. She reached the 
sunlight, and fell on her 
knees. But the jewels re¬ 
mained dull, and her tribes¬ 
men, seeing in this a favor¬ 
able sign, turned on and 
routed their conquerors, and 
bore their Princess home in 
triumph. 

The Dark Princess had, in 
her prison, exchanged her 
jewels and her great moccasin 
beads, and in permitting her 
to kneel, her captors had 
themselves kept the jewels in 
the dark! 

* * * * 

FORECASTER 
SENDS GREAT 
FLOOD WARNING! 

The Linger-Nots leave The 
Log Cabin to-morrow. En¬ 
suing grief will likely cause 
a rise in the Ramapo. Citi¬ 
zens are warned to wear over¬ 
shoes, and take other usual 
precautions against heavy 
floods. Rose Willing. 


CONSTELLATION 

Prince Ramrod, gave him a 
banquet of toasted marshmal¬ 
lows, and drank his health in 
hot chocolate. 

He made a speech of thanks, 
and then said: 

“Ladies and gentlemen, can 
you inform me how one goes 





198 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


about acquiring an iron will, 
an iron heart, and an iron 
hand in a velvet glove?” 

“You buy the glove at The 
Store,” replied the Lord 
Mayor of Brockway. “We 
will escort you through our 
iron-works, and our iron¬ 
workers will answer the rest 
of your question.” 

Everywhere the Prince went 
in the iron-works, he saw the 
workers beating the iron. No 
other explanation for his 
question was offered him. 

The Lord Mayor, noting his 
perplexity, said to him: “Pon¬ 
der on what you see, young 
man, and when you return to 
your own land you will know 
how to win your desires.” 
(To be concluded) 

• * * * 

AU RE VOIR 


Ramapo! 

Yet mine wondrous 


a sadder 
fate 

would be 
If I 

should fail 


To 

like this 
come back 
could 
never 


to go: I 


A SEPTEMBER 
SONG IN THE 
WOODS 

By Cecily Graham 

O yellow leaves, O red leaves. 
On birch and maple tree, 

0 gay leaves all a-rustle, 
You’re murmuring to me 
A song of bright September, 
Of autumn’s harvest-gold, 
When summer crowns her 
labor 

With treasure-trove untold. 


By Aline Gaines 

Alas! 

I’m bound 

For 

Dull 

New York, 

Where straight 
Is 

Every 

Street, 

Where 
I must 
Follow 
In 
A 

Line, 

Though pavements 

Hurt 

My feet! 


O yellow leaves, O brown 
leaves, 

By breezes swept along, 
Within my heart is ringing 
An echo of your song, 

That sings how bright Sep¬ 
tember, 

For all our years to be, 
Brought home her fairest 
harvest 

Of peace and harmony! 

THE IRON LOVER 
Chapter III 
By Joyce Barry 

When Prince Ramrod got 
home he was invited to lunch- 




THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 199 


eon at Princess Gushia’s. The 
Hermit was there, too, and 
the Princess’s Vizier. 

The Hermit kept asking 
questions about the Prince’s 
trip, but the latter did not 
wish to discuss it before the 
Princess. He refused steadily 
to answer, and finally the 
Hermit retired, beaten. The 
Prince now felt all his char¬ 
acter stiffen. He had ac¬ 
quired an iron will! 

Then the alcohol lamp un¬ 
der the Welsh rabbit blazed 
up, but the Prince bravely 
beat it out, and saved the 
rabbit. In so doing he ac¬ 
quired an iron heart! 


Then the Vizier, jealous be¬ 
cause the Prince was so clever, 
put jam on his fish. The 
Prince put on his Brockway 
glove, so as not to pinch the 
Vizier, and led him firmly 
from the room, beaten (by an 
iron hand in a velvet glove). 

Shortly thereafter, the nup¬ 
tials of Princess Gushia and 
Prince Ramrod were cele¬ 
brated with great pomp, and 
the Lord Mayor of Brockway 
sent this cablegram to the 
Prince: 

“Beat every difficulty ex¬ 
cept your wife!” 

THE END 


“Now, then,'' said Archie, concluding his 
reading of this joint production of so many fine 
minds, and taking out a pencil, “The Log Cabin 
Constellation Presents Itself—in what?” 

“In ‘The Evening Edition!' ” cried Evelyn 
promptly. “I always said we'd have an eve¬ 
ning edition!” 

“Let's have a cover page in colors,” sug¬ 
gested Helena, entering into the spirit of the 
new undertaking. “Let's have the Dark Prin¬ 
cess in costume, as a tableau.” 

‘ i First-rate!'' cried Cecily enthusiastically. 
“Everybody here will like that, for the Dark 
Princess is a local heroine. And, girls, don't 
you think it would be fun to make costumes up 
at my house part of the time this afternoon? 
All right, then, don't you worry about cos¬ 
tumes, for we have a lot of things up there that 







200 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


can be used. What are your other pages in 
‘The Evening Edition’ going to be?” 

As no vaudeville show could be considered 
complete without a one-act play, it was soon 
decided that Evelyn’s talents should be requisi¬ 
tioned at once for turning “The Iron Lover” 
into such a play, and Archie cut out the install¬ 
ments and gave them to Evelyn to work over. 
It was agreed that Helena should set both sets 
of verses to music and sing them. The news 
column was rather a problem until Priscilla at 
length made a diffident suggestion: 

“I wonder if there’s anybody here smart 
enough to make a shadow-play out of the news ? 
Surely somebody is—that would be a real nov¬ 
elty. ’ ’ 

“What’s a shadow-play?” inquired several 
voices. 

“Why, you hang up a sheet, throw a strong 
light behind it, and act out a play between the 
light and the sheet, so that the audience sees 
just silhouettes. The play’s always in verse, 
read aloud during the acting.” 

“Shadow-plays are great sport,” said 
Archie. “Say, why can’t the comic genius who 
wrote ‘Au Revoir’ start the works and have a 
shadow-play ready by this afternoon? Where 
is she?” 

The blushing Aline, thus publicly encouraged, 
agreed to “oblige” when she learned that only 





THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 201 


a simple narrative ballad was needed. Then 
Archie wrote down the full program: 

THE EVENING EDITION 
of 

The Log Cabin Constellation 

Pagel: Cover in Colors: “The Dark 
Princess” 

Page 2: Melodrama: “The Iron Lover” 

Page 3: Two Songs 

Page 4: Shadow-Play 

“A fine show, but not too long,” pronounced 
Archie. “We’ll rehearse this afternoon.” 

“Come early, girls,” urged Cecily hospitably, 
as she rose to go. “Get your parts settled, 
bring along your plays, and we’ll try to keep 
busy. ’ ’ 

Chestnuts were left in the woods that morn¬ 
ing. After a brief and unanimous agreement 
that it was a mistake to judge people hastily, 
since Mr. Archibald Hurd, though not a woods¬ 
man, on further acquaintance appeared to be 
a gentlemen of innumerable good points, the 
girls all settled down to work. And when they 
met Cecily on the threshold of the comfortable 
old-fashioned Gray House at the top of the hill 
that afternoon, they cried with one accord: 
“Well, we did it!” 

“Of course!” cried Cecily, as if surprised 




202 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


that anyone should doubt the fact. i ‘ Come and 
see what I did! ’ 9 

She led the way into the big living-room on 
one side of the narrow hall. On the solid, 
brocade-upholstered walnut chairs and sofas 
were heaps of drapery—shawls, table-cloths, 
pieces of bright-colored silk. “I cleared out 
a couple of old closets upstairs this morning , 9 9 
continued Cecily, “and bought a bushel of pins. 
Now, pick your fancy, and design your own cos¬ 
tumes! By the way, who are you all going 
to be!” 

Bose, it seemed, had been elected unani¬ 
mously as the Dark Princess . Muriel was 
Prince Ramrod, Evelyn the beautiful Princess 
Gushia y Helena the Lord Mayor of Brockway, 
and Virginia the Vizier, while Dorothy was to 
be the Hermit . Everybody had decided to be 
in the shadow-play, which proved to be an in¬ 
structive narrative about a party of young 
sportswomen who went to the Eamapo to fish, 
and after various adventures with floods and 
frying-pans, not only caught large numbers of 
fish as widely varying as cod, trout and sharks, 
but also fished out a magnificent gold casket 
which contained nine topazes, and a note stating 
that these were symbolical of happiness, a re¬ 
ward sure to be found by all those wise enough 
to visit Brockway. 

Archie put his head inside the door just as 
all the girls had started work on their costumes, 





THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 203 


and Aline had begun to read her ballad for 
Cecily ’s benefit: 

“It was an autumn morning 
Ear in the mountains wild. 

The rushing river rippled, 

The face of Nature smiled-” 

“Go ahead!” commanded Archie, as Aline 
stopped. “I’ll just listen in. I’m making 
scenery in the bam, and I might as well throw 
in a few mountains. ’ ’ 

He listened approvingly, to the very last 
lines: 

“And home we’ll go rejoicing, 

Captured by Brockway-town! ” 

“As good as Shakespeare, and much newer,’’ 
pronounced Archie. “By the way, Miss Aline, 
I’m to read that to-night, so may I have your 
copy to look over?’’ 

“Yes, read it over before we go out to the 
barn to rehearse,’’ said Cecily. “Before you 
go, Archie, look at the Lord Mayor’s robe. 
Isn’t it splendid?” 

Helena had indeed contrived a magnificent 
garment out of a remnant of curious purple 
satin and some strips of old embroidery. 
Archie admired it warmly and thoughtfully, 
and departed to his artistic labors. 

Soon all the other costumes were completed, 
and the Princess Gushia’s pointed cap and long 



204 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


veil, the Hermit’s long smock tied with a bit of 
window-cord, and the Vizier’s red and green 
turban, were declared highly successful. The 
fishing-party made itself wonderful plaited 
sport skirts out of folded newspapers, and 
Priscilla promised to lend all the rubber boots 
in The Log Cabin to complete these costumes. 

Then Cecily declared a halt in the work, 
though all her guests protested it was fun and 
not work, and ordered the rest of the afternoon 
spent in playing games. She knew hosts of new 
ones, and they all went well after the stren¬ 
uous morning. Finally came ice-cream with 
fudge sauce and cake and lemonade (“This is a 
real party,” pronounced Virginia privately to 
Joyce), and then Cecily’s sweet, shy little 
mother came in and charmed all the girls by 
the evident happiness she felt in meeting them. 

Just as the last crumbs were vanishing came 
a request from Archie that everybody would 
please come over to the barn and say that his 
scenery was wonderful and have a rehearsal of 
the show. 

So all the girls hurried over, through the old 
garden on the cliff, where the last asters were 
still in bloom, and where, to everybody’s de¬ 
light, the old iron link was back in place, but 
“grown round.” 

Archie had made all the scenery out of old 
gray pasteboard boxes: a medieval castle for 
the Princess Gushia, a tall tower exactly like 




THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 205 


the Snowdon blast-furnace to represent the 
iron-works visited by Prince Ramrod, which 
he explained would occupy opposite ends of the 
stage during the playing of “The Iron Lover,” 
and three sharp-peaked mountains for the 
shadow-play. Compliments were showered 
thick on him, and in return, after a vigorous 
rehearsal, he predicted complete success for 
the evening. 

“This will go like a breeze,” he declared 
finally, “and of course if there should be any 
little unexpected hitch on a stage that none of 
you ever saw before you’re experienced enough 
just to go right ahead acting anyhow.” 

After such a violently exciting day, some¬ 
body might have been tired in the evening, but 
nobody was. Everybody was in the best form 
to enjoy the gay scene in the pretty little 
school-house, where the whole population of 
Highland Pass had gathered for a splendid 
time. The walls were decorated with branches 
of pine and autumn leaves, the piano had been 
moved to one side of the platform, curtains had 
been hung in front, and though Mr. and Mrs. 
Cleveland had seen to it that their party from 
The Log Cabin arrived early, the audience was 
ahead of them. 

What a program had been planned for the 
evening in the school-house! All the local talent 
was present and shone. Music, recitations, 
songs, sleight-of-hand, monologues came in 





206 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


rapid succession. Cecily gave a beautiful re¬ 
production of Ramapo bird-notes, Mr. and Mrs. 
Hurd danced delightfully several times, and 
Keith played the cornet most acceptably. The 
Evening Edition came last, and therefore left 
more time for anxious speculation among its 
performers as to whether it would be good or 
not. But it had no sooner started than its pop¬ 
ularity was assured. From the tableau that 
showed Rose as the Dark Princess, the earliest 
heroine of Highland Pass, changing her jewels 
for beads, the sympathy of the audience was 
won. They cheered the indomitable Prince 
Ramrod , loudly applauded Helena’s pretty 
singing, and seemed much taken with the nov¬ 
elty of a shadow-play. Yet, to the surprise of 
the fishing-party in the last named piece, when 
Archie read the last lines: 

“And home we’ll go rejoicing, 

Captured by Brockway-town! ” 

he did not stop, the light did not go off; there 
was no applause. He went right on reading: 

“And when they paid this tribute, 

And sought their way afar, 

The village chieftain stopped them: 

“Nay! We your prisoners are! 

“Never, indeed, were victors 
Triumphant as are these! 




THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 207 


Lo! Of our captured city 
We hand you o’er the keys, 

“And since the time approaches 
When we, alas! must part, 

That you may not forget us, 

Accept, we beg, our heart!” 

Involuntarily, remembering Archie’s hint of 
a “hitch,” the fishing-party held their last 
pose. Out from the side of the platform walked 
Keith, a magnificent chieftain in the Lord 
Mayor's robe and the Vizier's turban, and, 
with a very low bow, presented Priscilla, first, 
with a pasteboard key about a foot high, and, 
second, with a large pasteboard heart. The 
audience, in full sympathy with this splendid 
tribute to the young friends who had done so 
much for the whole valley, burst into thunders 
of applause and roars of laughter, and as the 
light went out on the white screen, the girls 
greeted the culprits, Cecily, Keith, and Archie, 
with cries of “Oh, why did you do it?” “It 
was too much!” “What a wonderful surprise!” 

“And now,” said Cecily, “the young people 
are going to dance some of the old traditional 
Valley dances—we got a famous dance-fiddler 
over from Snowdon on purpose—and then, 
girls, there will be dancing for everybody. But 
I think you’ll enjoy looking on at the curious 
old dances, too.” 

So the floor was cleared, the fiddler came for- 




208 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


ward and bowed, and from all corners of the 
school-room came the cry: 

“Give ns ‘The Belles and Beaux of Brock- 
way’ !” 

The fiddler at once burst into a rollicking 
melody, and the Brockway young people lost 
no time in choosing partners and starting out 
on the floor, in the gayest of barn-dances, full 
of turns, capers, and whirls. Bill’s red head 
seemed to be everywhere, for Bill’s head had 
an excellent command over his feet, and Cecily 
and Keith were the merriest couple on the 
floor. 

“I wouldn’t know Cecily was the same girl I 
got acquainted with early in the summer, ’ ’ said 
Priscilla, who was watching the charming spec¬ 
tacle with her mother and guests from one cor¬ 
ner of the room. “She used to get depressed 
so often, and now look at her! Isn’t she sweet 
in that pretty white lace dress, with her jade 
chain? And did you ever see anyone look so 
happy?” 

“Everybody here is happy,” said Dorothy. 
“Just look at Mr. Graham!” 

That stern gentleman was worth looking at, 
for he, too, had a partner, and was dancing the 
old dance as gracefully and gayly as anyone on 
the floor, while Mr. Perrhyn was talking most 
affably to Mrs. Graham just across the room. 

“Did you hear what Mr. Graham has done, 
girls?” asked Mrs. Cleveland. “He has pre- 




THE MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY 209 


sented the school-house with a full set of rail¬ 
ings and window-boxes! It seems he meant to 
do so, all along. That was why he declined to 
give an estimate, but Mr. Perrhyn didn't give 
him time to explain his refusal, first, and after¬ 
wards he was too angry to explain it! Oh, 
girls, how splendid it is that that sort of mis¬ 
understanding is over forever now! You all 
certainly did a fine piece of work together in 
helping to heal the old Valley feud." 

“I have only one regret about it," remarked 
Virginia pensively. 

“My dear Jinny! What can it be?" 

“I didn't see, this afternoon, why Cecily has 
to have all the link on her lawn. I think Keith 
should have some of it, too—I mean, should 
have it sometimes," said Keith's loyal little 
friend. 

“Well, Jinny," said Mrs. Cleveland, smiling, 
“if you can keep a secret—a very private one! 
—I'll tell it to you." 

“I promise!" 

“I think that some day—by-and-by—Keith 
will have the whole of the link, and have it al¬ 
ways. For I think Cecily will go to live in the 
White House by the River, and take it with her! 
Now, remember, that's a solemn secret." 

“Upon my word of honor!" vowed Virginia. 
“Oh, isn't that simply scrumptious! Oh, I'm 
so glad I stole the fire-escape! Oh, what a won¬ 
derful prophet Bill is!" 





210 LINGER-NOTS AND VALLEY FEUD 


“What do you mean, Jinny?” cried Vir¬ 
ginia’s perplexed companions. 

“Don’t you remember? That night in the 
Haunted House, Bill said: ‘The iron drew 
you!’ It did. It drew Cecily and Keith to¬ 
gether, just as their families used to be, and 
when the iron link was welded, I just believe 
they had to be friends forever!” 

“What’s this about friends forever?” cried 
Cecily, halting, breathless, with Keith, just be¬ 
fore the group of girls, as the fiddler ended his 
dance with a great flourish of his bow. 

“It’s what we’re all going to be!” cried 
Keith, waving his arms to include the nine. 
“If you think for one second that this is our 
last day together, just think again!” 

And what happened afterward to the Linger- 
Nots is told in the story entitled, “The Linger- 
Nots and their Golden Quest.” 


THE END 




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I 




I 



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